Dec 15, Wednesday
6:30 am
Sometimes I have to remind myself that I am in India--not in the frantic babox moments, nor in the blood pressure raising TII times; but in the breathtaking moments where I inhale the thick spiced air, feel the smooth palm shade breeze against my skin, or look into rising fireball setting upon a silhouetted horizon of palm trees. It is in these moments that I beam in realization that I am living my dream. It seems like just yesterday I was in college fidgeting violently at the sheer utterance of leaving the country; and since my graduation one year ago, I have mazed through a labyrinth of twists and turns to end up sitting at this table, staring out at the dawning florescent orb creeping above the Keralan horizon. In high school and college, I had always taken every opportunity to go to Nicaragua to spend as much time outside the American bubble as possible. I have itched and rambled about my 'epic peace out'--to go somewhere for a long time--to friends and family since the very day in which that travel bug gave me my own pair of wings. Here I am now, waking up in in a subcontinent halfway around the world, and its real.
The past three months at RIMS have been phenomenal. I have learned infinite amounts about culture, teaching, friendship, children, and myself. Yesterday after school, the teachers threw a celebration where each individual stood up and told something about her experience with us. One even sang us a Hindi song that portrayed the idea that "even if you are gone, the memories will stay." They presented Colleen and I with plaques and watches as gifts. I could not even begin to express how thankful I am for their hospitality, kindness, patience, and,(yes) curiosity. It is the curiosity on both sides that bridged the cultural gap between two American women and a team of Indian teachers. I am forever changed for it. Several of the teachers yesterday even said that their perceptions of Americans have changed to a more positive image of friendly, helpful, and dependable people. I feel proud to have represented my country positively and honored to say that I worked at this institution. They truly are a wholesome, passionate bunch of teachers.
Not only have I learned from peers at RIMS, but from every child as well. It blows my mind how one simple thought from a child can sweep me away in a wave of wisdom. Yesterday first standard Shahezba fell down and skinned her knee. Another first standard girl and myself led a sniffling Shahezba to the sink to wash her face. Aneeka, (the most precious pig-tailed 6 year-old) helps splash water on Shahezba's face and knee and tells her, "When you fall down you are growing up. Don't cry." Shahezba wobbled her head in a nob, wiped her tears, and they skipped off to play. I will forever remember these words of wisdom from Aneeka.
Its about time that I leave for school, on my last day as an official teacher of RIMS. I will relish every second of today and immerse myself in the typical frenzy of skips, games, and songs. Colleen and I have set the children up with new songs and skits, and passed the baton over to the teachers. I have my second standard singing "Three Little Birds" by Bob Marley, and third standard boys performing my favorite childhood story, "The Grouchy Ladybug." I know they'll do a spectacular job. And while I want nothing more than to squeeze each and every child goodbye as I leave campus for the last time, I truly hope that I can glide past the gate with a smile and wave, and slip into the swirling dust upon the bustling street.
This is not the end of the story, but the beginning of a new chapter in my life. In fact, when I read storybooks as a child, I would always instruct my mother when it was time to "turn the page." So, while it will be excruciating to walk away from the 'Summer mam!"s echoing from those chocolate eyed angels, I will just have to listen to the little blond who remains in the crowd, saying "turn the page, Summer. Turn the page."
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
"napping 'neath the day palm shade of the blue skies of India"
Dec 11, Saturday
9:30 am
The crowd of twinkling jewels, candles, and golden smiles spins around the center of the temple. The procession of golden clad elephants, drummers, musicians, and tikku-ed people swirl around the center to replicate the anatomy of an atom. This analogy was provided to me by a very kind individual, and it was a much more detailed explanation than I had anticipated. The center shrine that holds the idol is considered the nucleus of the atom, containing the protons and neutrons. The man explained that the procession of people act as the electrons, and must orbit the center three times (then they add another elephant and do it again) to positively charge the nucleus. The nucleus will then radiate positive energy to all those within the temple walls. I'm not sure if it was the positive atom charge, the fifteen elephants, or thousands of people celebrating together amidst a see of twinkling lights that had me bursting with excitement. It was phenomenal.
We had just arrived to Kochi, Kerala, late last night, and already this festive evening made the six and a half hour train ride seem like days ago. In fact, one week ago we were hanging out in Kozhikode, or Calicut, with Jenna and Kyle. We made plans to meet up with them since they now teach a few hours south in Tirur. While Calicut wasn't too hoppin' with excitement, spending time with our ATI buddies made it a great weekend. We toured around the typical shopping areas, got hassled in the street by some man with some serious volume control issues (he kept screaming about the Fonda family), and hit up the beach where our agents apparently set up another surprise photo shoot. All of us have experienced the paparazzi here, but this time at the beach we literally had a semicircle of people crowded around us snapping pics.
Anyways, we met a friend in Calicut who suggested Beena Homestay in Kochi. This place was like living with an Indian family! Beena and her husband are like your Indian parents, their puppy-eyed adorable granddaughter, Krishna is your little sister, and you live in a quiet (you can't hear any cars!) neighborhood in Fort Cochin. A delicious breakfast and dinner are (cooked by her husband!) served as part of the $10 bucks a night charge--the food was phenomenal, fresh, and legit Indian home-cookin'.
On Saturday we got a rickshaw driver to show us all around Fort Cochin. We visited several historic churches created by the Portuguese--these churches reminded me a lot of the ones I've seen in Granada, Nicaragua with their colorful interiors, decorative statues, and elaborate altars---no doubt the similarity in structure and appearance derives from Iberian colonists. The St. Francis church is the oldest church in India, and holds the grave of Vasgo de Gama! Not only could I stand at the altar of a church that these early colonists prayed in hundreds of years ago, but I could stand over the gravestone of one of the fathers of traveling! Ah!
Our friendly rickshaw driver, Ashraf, left no site or shop to mystery as he hauled us to every nook and cranny of Fort Cochin. I loved seeing the local spice market where I was able to try a hodge podge of different teas and spiced items. (Dad--you would have loved this place! I took a picture for you :-) I think you would love the masala tea.) The spices are for sale in the upstairs area, and downstairs is a huge limestone courtyard of sorts with big warehouse rooms lining the sides. We watched women sift black pepper into a giant mound, and took a gander at the limestone baths in which they soak ginger before setting it out to dry. Ashraf also took us to some shops where he no doubt received commission for any purchases we made. Colleen and I have gotten quite used to people trying to take advantage of us; and something just seemed different about Ashraf and his eagerness not only to show us around his town proudly, but to take us to the tourist area and say "just look, don't buy…expensive" and then to a local shop to buy any goodies. I would like to thank Ashraf for helping crack off some of the hardened shell thats calcified around me as a result of being taken advantage of on a daily basis. Robin--our new South African friend exploring with us--and I inquired about the commission that Ashraf received for our purchases at the shops. He explained that the 2% he received helps pay for his children's school. He beamed with a smile to see Colleen and I walk out with shopping bags and exclaimed, "I can get their books!" His honesty was heart-warming and refreshing.
My face hit the pillow with a PLOP of coconut cannonball, only to be aroused the next morning to the sweet aroma of freshly sliced fruit, steaming idli, chutney, and sambar. This day would be even more fun filled as we were about to embark on the Kerala famous backwaters tour! While this was probably the most touristy thing we have done since arriving to India, who could resist floating on a houseboat through sparkling waters and palmed islands, get a crash course on ayurvedic plants (I ate a cinnamon leaf!), hop on a canoe thru the tiny shaded canals thru a local village, with lunch, pick-up and drop off included all for eleven bucks?! It was also our first 'real' encounter with the tourist crowd, and we had the pleasure of sitting alongside peeps from Canada, England, France, Germany, Spain, Italy, Finland, Denmark, and India. I felt as bad-ass as Anthony Bourdain in his Kerala episode, sitting in the sunlight on a houseboat, sipping fermented coconut water (which later turns to "Toddy"), and picking at freshly prepared seafood. While I loved sitting up front in the houseboat, with my feet dangling over the edge while I waved at passing fishermen, I'd say that I mostly enjoyed meandering thru the tiny backwater canal. The long canoe rocked through a sea of lily pads and mosses stretching over the banks. Saturated hues of green blanket the thick, humid air. Sunlight trickled through the trees and sparkled along the water ripples. I have expected fairies to flutter out from behind the tall grasses and place a crown of lilies on my head.
Women slap their laundry in the dark water while children scampered along the riverbank calling out to us curiously. This teeny shaded village is just one of the many treasures tucked between the palms of the backwater tropical paradise. It was a time where I feel like I experienced a secret in India.
9:30 am
The crowd of twinkling jewels, candles, and golden smiles spins around the center of the temple. The procession of golden clad elephants, drummers, musicians, and tikku-ed people swirl around the center to replicate the anatomy of an atom. This analogy was provided to me by a very kind individual, and it was a much more detailed explanation than I had anticipated. The center shrine that holds the idol is considered the nucleus of the atom, containing the protons and neutrons. The man explained that the procession of people act as the electrons, and must orbit the center three times (then they add another elephant and do it again) to positively charge the nucleus. The nucleus will then radiate positive energy to all those within the temple walls. I'm not sure if it was the positive atom charge, the fifteen elephants, or thousands of people celebrating together amidst a see of twinkling lights that had me bursting with excitement. It was phenomenal.
We had just arrived to Kochi, Kerala, late last night, and already this festive evening made the six and a half hour train ride seem like days ago. In fact, one week ago we were hanging out in Kozhikode, or Calicut, with Jenna and Kyle. We made plans to meet up with them since they now teach a few hours south in Tirur. While Calicut wasn't too hoppin' with excitement, spending time with our ATI buddies made it a great weekend. We toured around the typical shopping areas, got hassled in the street by some man with some serious volume control issues (he kept screaming about the Fonda family), and hit up the beach where our agents apparently set up another surprise photo shoot. All of us have experienced the paparazzi here, but this time at the beach we literally had a semicircle of people crowded around us snapping pics.
Anyways, we met a friend in Calicut who suggested Beena Homestay in Kochi. This place was like living with an Indian family! Beena and her husband are like your Indian parents, their puppy-eyed adorable granddaughter, Krishna is your little sister, and you live in a quiet (you can't hear any cars!) neighborhood in Fort Cochin. A delicious breakfast and dinner are (cooked by her husband!) served as part of the $10 bucks a night charge--the food was phenomenal, fresh, and legit Indian home-cookin'.
On Saturday we got a rickshaw driver to show us all around Fort Cochin. We visited several historic churches created by the Portuguese--these churches reminded me a lot of the ones I've seen in Granada, Nicaragua with their colorful interiors, decorative statues, and elaborate altars---no doubt the similarity in structure and appearance derives from Iberian colonists. The St. Francis church is the oldest church in India, and holds the grave of Vasgo de Gama! Not only could I stand at the altar of a church that these early colonists prayed in hundreds of years ago, but I could stand over the gravestone of one of the fathers of traveling! Ah!
Our friendly rickshaw driver, Ashraf, left no site or shop to mystery as he hauled us to every nook and cranny of Fort Cochin. I loved seeing the local spice market where I was able to try a hodge podge of different teas and spiced items. (Dad--you would have loved this place! I took a picture for you :-) I think you would love the masala tea.) The spices are for sale in the upstairs area, and downstairs is a huge limestone courtyard of sorts with big warehouse rooms lining the sides. We watched women sift black pepper into a giant mound, and took a gander at the limestone baths in which they soak ginger before setting it out to dry. Ashraf also took us to some shops where he no doubt received commission for any purchases we made. Colleen and I have gotten quite used to people trying to take advantage of us; and something just seemed different about Ashraf and his eagerness not only to show us around his town proudly, but to take us to the tourist area and say "just look, don't buy…expensive" and then to a local shop to buy any goodies. I would like to thank Ashraf for helping crack off some of the hardened shell thats calcified around me as a result of being taken advantage of on a daily basis. Robin--our new South African friend exploring with us--and I inquired about the commission that Ashraf received for our purchases at the shops. He explained that the 2% he received helps pay for his children's school. He beamed with a smile to see Colleen and I walk out with shopping bags and exclaimed, "I can get their books!" His honesty was heart-warming and refreshing.
My face hit the pillow with a PLOP of coconut cannonball, only to be aroused the next morning to the sweet aroma of freshly sliced fruit, steaming idli, chutney, and sambar. This day would be even more fun filled as we were about to embark on the Kerala famous backwaters tour! While this was probably the most touristy thing we have done since arriving to India, who could resist floating on a houseboat through sparkling waters and palmed islands, get a crash course on ayurvedic plants (I ate a cinnamon leaf!), hop on a canoe thru the tiny shaded canals thru a local village, with lunch, pick-up and drop off included all for eleven bucks?! It was also our first 'real' encounter with the tourist crowd, and we had the pleasure of sitting alongside peeps from Canada, England, France, Germany, Spain, Italy, Finland, Denmark, and India. I felt as bad-ass as Anthony Bourdain in his Kerala episode, sitting in the sunlight on a houseboat, sipping fermented coconut water (which later turns to "Toddy"), and picking at freshly prepared seafood. While I loved sitting up front in the houseboat, with my feet dangling over the edge while I waved at passing fishermen, I'd say that I mostly enjoyed meandering thru the tiny backwater canal. The long canoe rocked through a sea of lily pads and mosses stretching over the banks. Saturated hues of green blanket the thick, humid air. Sunlight trickled through the trees and sparkled along the water ripples. I have expected fairies to flutter out from behind the tall grasses and place a crown of lilies on my head.
Women slap their laundry in the dark water while children scampered along the riverbank calling out to us curiously. This teeny shaded village is just one of the many treasures tucked between the palms of the backwater tropical paradise. It was a time where I feel like I experienced a secret in India.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Elephants!
November 23, Tuesday
6 pm
We left the pouring rain in Bangalore and hopped on the rickety bus to Mysore, a laid back city about three hours south. While this area would still qualify as a bustling Indian city, it held a chill vibe that may be one of many lures to hippy tourists. Mysore is famous for its silks, ayurvedic oils, and incense. Sumleen arrived to our $2 a night hostel on Thursday evening and awoke early Friday for a fun-filled Mysore day. At breakfast we met a German dude who is traveling around until he has to return to Bangalore for a masters in math. We agreed to meet up later to visit the palace and zoo; and in the meantime Sumleen set out for some adventure. Mysore's streets were filled with the typical rickshaws, street vendors, colorful saris, and uniform clad children; however, nothing could beat the crisp, cool mountain air surrounding us. There wasn't much more than hills surrounding us, but thanks to the higher altitude, the climate was not only bearable, but pleasant. It was a wonderful break from the sweltering Kannur oven we are used to.
In route to the old market, a guy overheard me talking to Colleen about its location and offered to take us there. He is currently in university studying linguistics and was more than happy to practice his English with us. He ended up spending the morning with us, taking us to various shops to see the making and uses of beedis, incense, and various Ayurvedic oils. Colleen and I selected our all-natural ammo, water lily oil, against the army of mosquitos that plagues us in our sleep. The man we purchased this from was very informative and eager to share the purpose of each oil to us--whether he was being a good salesman or just plain excited to share I'm not sure. We did, however, make a quick exit when post-water lily purchase he started explaining how he imports illicit substances to America. K thanks for the water lily, uh bye! Before we knew it, we were in the basement of some other shop with another very enthusiastic persian rug salesman. This guy was good, and we assured him that if we 1. had the money to purchase one, and 2. actually had a home to put it in, we would purchase a masterpiece in a heartbeat. These rugs really were breath taking, and it was fascinating to see how each one was created by hand, tying silk knots one by one. One large rug can take two years to make, and probably causes some serious carpal tunnel.
While watching our persian rug friend spin the carpets around on the floor to show how the rug changes color with each angle, we realized It was already one o'clock and Sumleen had to meet our Deutsch amigo. We weren't sure if the guy showing us around would ask us for money (he met us completely by chance) before we dipped; and to our slight surprise, he didn't. I felt awful for having the notion even cross my head, but things like this happen quite a bit. When he put us in a rickshaw and waved goodbye, I pinched myself for almost assuming that this guy was nothing short of a friendly dude just trying to show some hospitality and practice some English. Even if the vendors were all his friends, good! They were good people and provided a much less stressful experience than lets say, Kolkata.
The palace was ginormous! It towered above us with decorative twisty turquoise pillars, and frilly golden arches leading inside. The only thing that took away from the authenticity was the mass of Indians tourists, and a couple hundred rupee charge difference for westerners. Determined to dive inside this Aladdin fairytale, the Sumleen Deutsch trio joined the crowd, tickets clutched in hand, and practically "moo"-ed as we were all herded inside. Elaborate paintings of historical Indian armies, elephants, rulers, and Hindu gods decorated the walls that lead to a central room fit for a ball. Speckles of colored sunlight danced upon the floor. The turquoise pillars encompassing the sparkling center lead up to a spectacular stained-glass skylight. This ceiling could probably cover most of my home. Peacocks, trees, profiles and swirls collided all throughout the circular masterpiece and boasted the bright spectrum of colors that reflect down upon the intricately tiled floor. Its amazing how this place was created---every nook and cranny was intricately detailed, carved, painted, or etched with some purposeful symbol, god, or figure. I also found it fascinating that regardless of the fact that this was a palace for a ruling Muslim, there were tons of references to Hindu gods. Inside the palace walls, there were also several Hindu temples. Aside from the stained glass, I was most impressed with a 10 foot dark wooden door with tiny in-laid designs using mango and ginger root to honor Ganesha.
Speaking of elephants, we had heard from our friend in the morning that the palace had elephants that day. Thats one way to get my attention. "Elephants?!" I'd inquire eagerly to officials. Each pointed in a general direction towards the center courtyard of the palace and temples. Sure enough, sitting on a grassy knoll in the center were two camels and two elephants. AH! I revert back to five-years-old and scamper off to play with the wild beasts. Some are saddled up and walking around with tourists on their backs so the Sumleen Duetsch trio had a grand time making faces and talking to the very cranky looking "off-duty" camel. We also got to see the elephants up close and personal by giving them a rupee--they take it with their trunk, give it to the man on their back, and then lightly touch us on the head to 'bless us'. While quite the tourist stunt, I ate up every second!
I got to see more elephants, of both Indian and African nature, at the Mysore zoo. It turned out to be a lot bigger than we imagined, and while it was exciting to see all sorts of animals, this zoo was nothing short of depressing as every animals 'home' was barely enough space to pace back and forth and stare back at the faces looking in. I was thrilled to see the tigers, but more upset that they were crammed into an area smaller than the elephants' and camels' grassy knoll at the palace. I come upon the wolf exhibit and read the sign, "The wolf is a highly social animal and travels in packs of six to twelve." I look into the mini arena and see two nervous dogs pacing around. Yeah, I don't feel great about that zoo. On a lighter note, I also wondered who was really the exhibit as the white trio was getting asked left and right to get pictures taken with EVERYONE. I have become used being a spectacle as men, women, elderly, and children alike approach and ask to have their picture taken with me. Its typically fine until its every couple minutes and I forget where I am and what I'm doing because I'm getting bombarded by sketchy high school boys or having children shoved at me by parents. It is kind of cool that I'm circling family albums across the subcontinent.
All elephant expectation had been exceeded and I contently gazed out the bus window on the long, rickety ride home to Kannur. I became used to watching wild monkeys scamper about on the roadsides, and seeing the lush green canopy of palm trees stretch back to the fading rolling hills. I put my ipod on John Butler Trio's "Under and Indian Sky" and…. elephant! "ELEPHANT!" I yell loud enough to alert anyone within five rows of me. "ELEPHANT!" I shake Colleen violently but turn her around a second too late as we had already zoomed by. Lots of people give me odd glances, like, "yeah, we have those here." I didn't care. I was beaming from inside out. I had seen a wild elephant in his natural habitat and didn't care who knew it!
6 pm
We left the pouring rain in Bangalore and hopped on the rickety bus to Mysore, a laid back city about three hours south. While this area would still qualify as a bustling Indian city, it held a chill vibe that may be one of many lures to hippy tourists. Mysore is famous for its silks, ayurvedic oils, and incense. Sumleen arrived to our $2 a night hostel on Thursday evening and awoke early Friday for a fun-filled Mysore day. At breakfast we met a German dude who is traveling around until he has to return to Bangalore for a masters in math. We agreed to meet up later to visit the palace and zoo; and in the meantime Sumleen set out for some adventure. Mysore's streets were filled with the typical rickshaws, street vendors, colorful saris, and uniform clad children; however, nothing could beat the crisp, cool mountain air surrounding us. There wasn't much more than hills surrounding us, but thanks to the higher altitude, the climate was not only bearable, but pleasant. It was a wonderful break from the sweltering Kannur oven we are used to.
In route to the old market, a guy overheard me talking to Colleen about its location and offered to take us there. He is currently in university studying linguistics and was more than happy to practice his English with us. He ended up spending the morning with us, taking us to various shops to see the making and uses of beedis, incense, and various Ayurvedic oils. Colleen and I selected our all-natural ammo, water lily oil, against the army of mosquitos that plagues us in our sleep. The man we purchased this from was very informative and eager to share the purpose of each oil to us--whether he was being a good salesman or just plain excited to share I'm not sure. We did, however, make a quick exit when post-water lily purchase he started explaining how he imports illicit substances to America. K thanks for the water lily, uh bye! Before we knew it, we were in the basement of some other shop with another very enthusiastic persian rug salesman. This guy was good, and we assured him that if we 1. had the money to purchase one, and 2. actually had a home to put it in, we would purchase a masterpiece in a heartbeat. These rugs really were breath taking, and it was fascinating to see how each one was created by hand, tying silk knots one by one. One large rug can take two years to make, and probably causes some serious carpal tunnel.
While watching our persian rug friend spin the carpets around on the floor to show how the rug changes color with each angle, we realized It was already one o'clock and Sumleen had to meet our Deutsch amigo. We weren't sure if the guy showing us around would ask us for money (he met us completely by chance) before we dipped; and to our slight surprise, he didn't. I felt awful for having the notion even cross my head, but things like this happen quite a bit. When he put us in a rickshaw and waved goodbye, I pinched myself for almost assuming that this guy was nothing short of a friendly dude just trying to show some hospitality and practice some English. Even if the vendors were all his friends, good! They were good people and provided a much less stressful experience than lets say, Kolkata.
The palace was ginormous! It towered above us with decorative twisty turquoise pillars, and frilly golden arches leading inside. The only thing that took away from the authenticity was the mass of Indians tourists, and a couple hundred rupee charge difference for westerners. Determined to dive inside this Aladdin fairytale, the Sumleen Deutsch trio joined the crowd, tickets clutched in hand, and practically "moo"-ed as we were all herded inside. Elaborate paintings of historical Indian armies, elephants, rulers, and Hindu gods decorated the walls that lead to a central room fit for a ball. Speckles of colored sunlight danced upon the floor. The turquoise pillars encompassing the sparkling center lead up to a spectacular stained-glass skylight. This ceiling could probably cover most of my home. Peacocks, trees, profiles and swirls collided all throughout the circular masterpiece and boasted the bright spectrum of colors that reflect down upon the intricately tiled floor. Its amazing how this place was created---every nook and cranny was intricately detailed, carved, painted, or etched with some purposeful symbol, god, or figure. I also found it fascinating that regardless of the fact that this was a palace for a ruling Muslim, there were tons of references to Hindu gods. Inside the palace walls, there were also several Hindu temples. Aside from the stained glass, I was most impressed with a 10 foot dark wooden door with tiny in-laid designs using mango and ginger root to honor Ganesha.
Speaking of elephants, we had heard from our friend in the morning that the palace had elephants that day. Thats one way to get my attention. "Elephants?!" I'd inquire eagerly to officials. Each pointed in a general direction towards the center courtyard of the palace and temples. Sure enough, sitting on a grassy knoll in the center were two camels and two elephants. AH! I revert back to five-years-old and scamper off to play with the wild beasts. Some are saddled up and walking around with tourists on their backs so the Sumleen Duetsch trio had a grand time making faces and talking to the very cranky looking "off-duty" camel. We also got to see the elephants up close and personal by giving them a rupee--they take it with their trunk, give it to the man on their back, and then lightly touch us on the head to 'bless us'. While quite the tourist stunt, I ate up every second!
I got to see more elephants, of both Indian and African nature, at the Mysore zoo. It turned out to be a lot bigger than we imagined, and while it was exciting to see all sorts of animals, this zoo was nothing short of depressing as every animals 'home' was barely enough space to pace back and forth and stare back at the faces looking in. I was thrilled to see the tigers, but more upset that they were crammed into an area smaller than the elephants' and camels' grassy knoll at the palace. I come upon the wolf exhibit and read the sign, "The wolf is a highly social animal and travels in packs of six to twelve." I look into the mini arena and see two nervous dogs pacing around. Yeah, I don't feel great about that zoo. On a lighter note, I also wondered who was really the exhibit as the white trio was getting asked left and right to get pictures taken with EVERYONE. I have become used being a spectacle as men, women, elderly, and children alike approach and ask to have their picture taken with me. Its typically fine until its every couple minutes and I forget where I am and what I'm doing because I'm getting bombarded by sketchy high school boys or having children shoved at me by parents. It is kind of cool that I'm circling family albums across the subcontinent.
All elephant expectation had been exceeded and I contently gazed out the bus window on the long, rickety ride home to Kannur. I became used to watching wild monkeys scamper about on the roadsides, and seeing the lush green canopy of palm trees stretch back to the fading rolling hills. I put my ipod on John Butler Trio's "Under and Indian Sky" and…. elephant! "ELEPHANT!" I yell loud enough to alert anyone within five rows of me. "ELEPHANT!" I shake Colleen violently but turn her around a second too late as we had already zoomed by. Lots of people give me odd glances, like, "yeah, we have those here." I didn't care. I was beaming from inside out. I had seen a wild elephant in his natural habitat and didn't care who knew it!
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Western Invasion
November 23, Tuesday
6 am
I woke up with six mosquito bites on my face. Eniku iddi ishtamailla.
Children's Day last week was a great success. The program lasted around 4 hours; and while the crowd was slightly less than cooperative--chattering, standing, sitting, coming and going-- nothing stunted our beaming proud smiles as the kids performed. As the program ended, we congratulated the children on a job well done and scampered down the dirt road in our lovely red sari (Colleen), and princess Jasmine-like salwaar (Summer) to begin packing for a much needed vacation to Bangalore. We arrive to the flat drenched and drained only to find that the power is out…again. The only remedy for the sweltering heat, sheer exhaustion, and fan-less flat was to strip down to our skivvies and collapse like gumbies to the cool tile floors. Our much needed floor naps ended and sparked a spastic-excited Sumleen packin' and shakin' to club music until we had to leave around 7:30 pm. We hopped onto our overnight bus, giggling with excitement, and headed up the winding road to Bangalore.
The reason the trip to Bangalore sparked in the first place was due to Sir's request that we observe at some developed Montessori schools. RIMS is hosting a Montessori Teacher Training Program, and the educator is a woman who runs a M school in Bangalore. Munira helped set us up with accommodation and observation times at her school. She also surprised us by providing us drivers to take us around Bangalore. I was very impressed at the YWCA at which we stayed, as it had comfy beds, hot water, and a bad-ass mamma who ran the joint. This white-haired, furrow-browed, sari-clad woman could star in the Bollywood rendition of Diary of a Mad Black Woman--she takes no prisoners when it comes to "her girls." She declared to us that no man has ever set foot in the building, and she has no fear in taking necessary measures to deal with any intruders. After holding out her thumb to show that she has never told a lie in her life (I think straight thumb = truth teller?) this Auntie gave us the low down on how she runs the place. "I keep gun in my sari," she exclaimed, and rolled on with a story of a maid seeing it under her pillow, officials receiving complaint calls and holding a meeting to fix this issue. When she was asked to remove the gun from her sari and place it on the table, the officials quickly realized that the pistol was, in fact, a plastic toy gun. Colleen and I just smiled and head wobbled as old auntie shook her finger at us and swore by this toy gun bluff. We scuttled up to our room in hopes that she wasn't packing anything serious in that sari of hers.
Bangalore is a swirly blend of New York City shopping, Calcutta crowds and craze, mountain fresh air, and hipster streets of Chicago. Business suits and briefcases rule this computer geek metropolis as it is the IT hub of India. You may very well have spoken to someone in Bangalore when calling a customer service number in the past. Streets are lined with shopping mall windows decorated with skinny-jeaned mannequins, fast food McDonalds, Taco Bells, and KFCs bragging western grub in gaudy, red and yellow signs. Tank-topped super model types float across the bustling streets, and screen-tee and tight jean clad characters smoke cigs on the corners. While I normally dislike western invasions like this, there was something unique about the hodge podge of cultures bubbling in Bangalore. There was certainly no shortage of vendors, saris, rickshaws, and spicy street food--the vibe was both invigorating and relaxing.
The cultural diversity of Bangalore was evident--no one stares at the fair-skinned as tourists and locals come in all colors in this metropolitan city. Even the Montessori school, Little Feat, had only about 15% of born and raised Bangalorians. Little Feat was remarkable and quite the model Montessori school. You pass the gleaming jungle gym, remove your chappals, and enter into two stories of ten beautiful, clean, colorful environments. Children atop floor mats trace sandpaper letters, build geometric towers, and finagle intricate puzzles into place. These kids are reading at age 3 and can add, subtract, and multiply by the time they graduate to first standard. We observed on Monday and Tuesday to learn more about the Montessori presentation and learning. I was elated to participate in circle singing time (thats my favorite at RIMS) and teach them a few of my stand-by songs. Thank you Mrs. Joy, my third grade teacher, for teaching that silly version of Singing in the Rain, as it is now being spread across India--the kids love it! The more exposure I have to both the Montessori method and its results, the more interested I become. Who knows, maybe the non-profit I open for Latin American street kids could involve some Montessori!
Wednesday was a holiday for Muslims, Eid. The holiday is celebrated by fasting for a few days and then the third day one sacrifices a goat for every member of the family, and giving the meat to a family in need. Times have changed, and while many families still slaughter the animals to give, others elect to just give an equivalent in a monetary donation. Just like any holiday, it is a festive time where everyone dresses up, spends time with family, and eats way too much food. Noor and her mother (our flat roomies) visited Bangalore this past week as well to celebrate the holiday with all their family and invited us to join them to meet the whole gang. Colleen and I did not go for the 'official' holiday meal, but spent the evening with the giant family. Noor is the youngest of eleven children, and while I swear that I met close to thirty new faces while being stuffed with delicious biriyani, chicken, gulab jamun, and other interesting concoctions, she claims that we only met TWO of the siblings' families. At her sister's house, we were peppered with questions by inquisitive uncles, aunts, and cousins. The questions came in order as always: "how many brothers?" "how many sisters?" "what? you both are the only one?" "are all Americans that tall?" Colleen and I are a interesting representation of America as we both come from 3 person families and tower over India at just under six feet. Then the inevitable cluster of "how old are you?" (Summer 23, Colleen 24)…"married?" …"no"… "why?"… I always say, "why not?"… then the uncle shows no effort in holding back a grimace at the sheer impossibility for a woman to marry at the decrepit age of 23. Sorry buddy, I got places to go and people to see. Noor helped explain that in America, its perfectly normal to get married at any age, even after…..oh my god… 30! These discussions always seem to end in a laugh at the physical and cultural differences and a jovial joke at Colleen or I running into a door frame, or the fact that we probably should look for love somewhere besides India. Everyone was so kind and welcoming I felt like I was celebrating a holiday with family. Two of the younger girls presented Colleen and I with salwaar fabric and jasmine flowers at the end of the evening--a gesture that still chokes me up. We have never met, or ever talked to Noor's sister, and yet we are greeted with warm hands and kind smiles. It was touching, and in all honesty, made me miss my family and friends more than anything.
After observing at the school, eating western food (I had my first giant salad in months!), strolling thru the botanical gardens, and celebrating a holiday, we were about ready to head back home. However, thanks to the randomness of India, we received a call from Aaliya that we didn't have to be home until next MONDAY! So we hopscotched and scidaddled on down to the lovely mountain town of Mysore! stay tuned…
6 am
I woke up with six mosquito bites on my face. Eniku iddi ishtamailla.
Children's Day last week was a great success. The program lasted around 4 hours; and while the crowd was slightly less than cooperative--chattering, standing, sitting, coming and going-- nothing stunted our beaming proud smiles as the kids performed. As the program ended, we congratulated the children on a job well done and scampered down the dirt road in our lovely red sari (Colleen), and princess Jasmine-like salwaar (Summer) to begin packing for a much needed vacation to Bangalore. We arrive to the flat drenched and drained only to find that the power is out…again. The only remedy for the sweltering heat, sheer exhaustion, and fan-less flat was to strip down to our skivvies and collapse like gumbies to the cool tile floors. Our much needed floor naps ended and sparked a spastic-excited Sumleen packin' and shakin' to club music until we had to leave around 7:30 pm. We hopped onto our overnight bus, giggling with excitement, and headed up the winding road to Bangalore.
The reason the trip to Bangalore sparked in the first place was due to Sir's request that we observe at some developed Montessori schools. RIMS is hosting a Montessori Teacher Training Program, and the educator is a woman who runs a M school in Bangalore. Munira helped set us up with accommodation and observation times at her school. She also surprised us by providing us drivers to take us around Bangalore. I was very impressed at the YWCA at which we stayed, as it had comfy beds, hot water, and a bad-ass mamma who ran the joint. This white-haired, furrow-browed, sari-clad woman could star in the Bollywood rendition of Diary of a Mad Black Woman--she takes no prisoners when it comes to "her girls." She declared to us that no man has ever set foot in the building, and she has no fear in taking necessary measures to deal with any intruders. After holding out her thumb to show that she has never told a lie in her life (I think straight thumb = truth teller?) this Auntie gave us the low down on how she runs the place. "I keep gun in my sari," she exclaimed, and rolled on with a story of a maid seeing it under her pillow, officials receiving complaint calls and holding a meeting to fix this issue. When she was asked to remove the gun from her sari and place it on the table, the officials quickly realized that the pistol was, in fact, a plastic toy gun. Colleen and I just smiled and head wobbled as old auntie shook her finger at us and swore by this toy gun bluff. We scuttled up to our room in hopes that she wasn't packing anything serious in that sari of hers.
Bangalore is a swirly blend of New York City shopping, Calcutta crowds and craze, mountain fresh air, and hipster streets of Chicago. Business suits and briefcases rule this computer geek metropolis as it is the IT hub of India. You may very well have spoken to someone in Bangalore when calling a customer service number in the past. Streets are lined with shopping mall windows decorated with skinny-jeaned mannequins, fast food McDonalds, Taco Bells, and KFCs bragging western grub in gaudy, red and yellow signs. Tank-topped super model types float across the bustling streets, and screen-tee and tight jean clad characters smoke cigs on the corners. While I normally dislike western invasions like this, there was something unique about the hodge podge of cultures bubbling in Bangalore. There was certainly no shortage of vendors, saris, rickshaws, and spicy street food--the vibe was both invigorating and relaxing.
The cultural diversity of Bangalore was evident--no one stares at the fair-skinned as tourists and locals come in all colors in this metropolitan city. Even the Montessori school, Little Feat, had only about 15% of born and raised Bangalorians. Little Feat was remarkable and quite the model Montessori school. You pass the gleaming jungle gym, remove your chappals, and enter into two stories of ten beautiful, clean, colorful environments. Children atop floor mats trace sandpaper letters, build geometric towers, and finagle intricate puzzles into place. These kids are reading at age 3 and can add, subtract, and multiply by the time they graduate to first standard. We observed on Monday and Tuesday to learn more about the Montessori presentation and learning. I was elated to participate in circle singing time (thats my favorite at RIMS) and teach them a few of my stand-by songs. Thank you Mrs. Joy, my third grade teacher, for teaching that silly version of Singing in the Rain, as it is now being spread across India--the kids love it! The more exposure I have to both the Montessori method and its results, the more interested I become. Who knows, maybe the non-profit I open for Latin American street kids could involve some Montessori!
Wednesday was a holiday for Muslims, Eid. The holiday is celebrated by fasting for a few days and then the third day one sacrifices a goat for every member of the family, and giving the meat to a family in need. Times have changed, and while many families still slaughter the animals to give, others elect to just give an equivalent in a monetary donation. Just like any holiday, it is a festive time where everyone dresses up, spends time with family, and eats way too much food. Noor and her mother (our flat roomies) visited Bangalore this past week as well to celebrate the holiday with all their family and invited us to join them to meet the whole gang. Colleen and I did not go for the 'official' holiday meal, but spent the evening with the giant family. Noor is the youngest of eleven children, and while I swear that I met close to thirty new faces while being stuffed with delicious biriyani, chicken, gulab jamun, and other interesting concoctions, she claims that we only met TWO of the siblings' families. At her sister's house, we were peppered with questions by inquisitive uncles, aunts, and cousins. The questions came in order as always: "how many brothers?" "how many sisters?" "what? you both are the only one?" "are all Americans that tall?" Colleen and I are a interesting representation of America as we both come from 3 person families and tower over India at just under six feet. Then the inevitable cluster of "how old are you?" (Summer 23, Colleen 24)…"married?" …"no"… "why?"… I always say, "why not?"… then the uncle shows no effort in holding back a grimace at the sheer impossibility for a woman to marry at the decrepit age of 23. Sorry buddy, I got places to go and people to see. Noor helped explain that in America, its perfectly normal to get married at any age, even after…..oh my god… 30! These discussions always seem to end in a laugh at the physical and cultural differences and a jovial joke at Colleen or I running into a door frame, or the fact that we probably should look for love somewhere besides India. Everyone was so kind and welcoming I felt like I was celebrating a holiday with family. Two of the younger girls presented Colleen and I with salwaar fabric and jasmine flowers at the end of the evening--a gesture that still chokes me up. We have never met, or ever talked to Noor's sister, and yet we are greeted with warm hands and kind smiles. It was touching, and in all honesty, made me miss my family and friends more than anything.
After observing at the school, eating western food (I had my first giant salad in months!), strolling thru the botanical gardens, and celebrating a holiday, we were about ready to head back home. However, thanks to the randomness of India, we received a call from Aaliya that we didn't have to be home until next MONDAY! So we hopscotched and scidaddled on down to the lovely mountain town of Mysore! stay tuned…
Energizer Bunnies
Sunday, Nov 14
6 am
This past week has been absolutely exhausting as we have been practicing and preparing for today's Children's Day festivities. There will be a big program at the school where the children perform all sorts of songs, skits, and recitations. I cant wait to see how my three montessori girls perform in their puppet show (they get distracted pretty easily) and how the 4-6 standard girls sing One TIn Soldier--I always get goosebumps hearing them sing it as this song's lyrics are my favorite. Colleen has the 4th standard boys doing a drama called The Farmer and the Son and it will be simply amazing. The children have never put on such a performance like this and we are so excited to see them decked out in costume performing a real drama. One of the teachers has first standard singing Doe a Deer---I figured this would excite any sister in the Ryan family haha. I was really sad that the older girls were not allowed to perform in a play, so we have them singing songs and doing recitations. Two of my fifth standard girls will recite a poem they wrote called "I am" . I hope I don't ruffle any feathers in doing this but I was so happy with their writing that I wanted them to share themselves with the audience. This whole project for November 14 seems to have cracked the kids shells a bit, let them a little more free. Lets see how it goes!
I do want to mention Sumleen's adventure yesterday. We headed to Calicut at 6:50 am for a film festival. Anis Sir had informed us that we would go to watch some movies and sit on a panel to discuss the educational implications or something of that nature. Colleen and I eagerly agreed as we love trying new things and we both really enjoy talking probably a bit too much. We squished into the general class train car and made the two hour journey to Calicut. We were greeted at the station by a smiling principal of Calicut University, Mohammed Ali, who packed us in his car, fed us egg curry, and hauled us to the film festival on campus. We arrived to a very nice seminar venue and escorted to a room where we could change from our sweaty train clothes. Dang, we were getting VIP service here! I started to worry that they thought we were more important than we really were, but before a thought could finish Sumleen was directed to the front row of the auditorium filled with teachers and students. Sir had informed us that we were to be part of the discussion, but I was already getting a feeling that we were being perceived as a bit more important than necessary. I flip to the first page of the program to see what the heck is happening (as no one really ever knows whats going on here) and see printed on the first page:
Film Anchors
Summer Ryan Dunham
Virginia Beach, USA
Colleen McKown
North Carolina, USA
"SH**!!!" I turn to Colleen… is this T-II?? Babox? I cant fit this situation into any of my Indian schemas! The program began, we were introduced to the crowd, "We have Summer Ryan Dunham and Colleen Mckown from the USA to lead our discussion on these films today." Mmmk so we are leading a discussion about the movies Dead Poet Society and Daddy Day Care. Rather than panic, we pulled out our notepads and put our movie critic caps on. Better to just accept this duty gracefully. I had never seen Dead Poet Society, so the experience was quite enjoyable. At the end of the movie Colleen and I went up to the stage and sat behind our official microphones and let the opinions roll. It was great to see the students participate in the discussion as Venugopal (a scholarly man who put us up to this. He is studying the acquisition of language in the child brain and visits RIMS often) stated that this was the first program of its kind that the students have attended. Many of the participating students expressed interest in more progressive ways of learning (like in DPS), or commented on the teacher-student relationship. Our comments and questions came to an end and we snapped some pics with some students and headed back to Kannur in the sweltering, jam packed train--first falling asleep standing up and then practicing Malayalam with a cluster of dudes.
6 am
This past week has been absolutely exhausting as we have been practicing and preparing for today's Children's Day festivities. There will be a big program at the school where the children perform all sorts of songs, skits, and recitations. I cant wait to see how my three montessori girls perform in their puppet show (they get distracted pretty easily) and how the 4-6 standard girls sing One TIn Soldier--I always get goosebumps hearing them sing it as this song's lyrics are my favorite. Colleen has the 4th standard boys doing a drama called The Farmer and the Son and it will be simply amazing. The children have never put on such a performance like this and we are so excited to see them decked out in costume performing a real drama. One of the teachers has first standard singing Doe a Deer---I figured this would excite any sister in the Ryan family haha. I was really sad that the older girls were not allowed to perform in a play, so we have them singing songs and doing recitations. Two of my fifth standard girls will recite a poem they wrote called "I am" . I hope I don't ruffle any feathers in doing this but I was so happy with their writing that I wanted them to share themselves with the audience. This whole project for November 14 seems to have cracked the kids shells a bit, let them a little more free. Lets see how it goes!
I do want to mention Sumleen's adventure yesterday. We headed to Calicut at 6:50 am for a film festival. Anis Sir had informed us that we would go to watch some movies and sit on a panel to discuss the educational implications or something of that nature. Colleen and I eagerly agreed as we love trying new things and we both really enjoy talking probably a bit too much. We squished into the general class train car and made the two hour journey to Calicut. We were greeted at the station by a smiling principal of Calicut University, Mohammed Ali, who packed us in his car, fed us egg curry, and hauled us to the film festival on campus. We arrived to a very nice seminar venue and escorted to a room where we could change from our sweaty train clothes. Dang, we were getting VIP service here! I started to worry that they thought we were more important than we really were, but before a thought could finish Sumleen was directed to the front row of the auditorium filled with teachers and students. Sir had informed us that we were to be part of the discussion, but I was already getting a feeling that we were being perceived as a bit more important than necessary. I flip to the first page of the program to see what the heck is happening (as no one really ever knows whats going on here) and see printed on the first page:
Film Anchors
Summer Ryan Dunham
Virginia Beach, USA
Colleen McKown
North Carolina, USA
"SH**!!!" I turn to Colleen… is this T-II?? Babox? I cant fit this situation into any of my Indian schemas! The program began, we were introduced to the crowd, "We have Summer Ryan Dunham and Colleen Mckown from the USA to lead our discussion on these films today." Mmmk so we are leading a discussion about the movies Dead Poet Society and Daddy Day Care. Rather than panic, we pulled out our notepads and put our movie critic caps on. Better to just accept this duty gracefully. I had never seen Dead Poet Society, so the experience was quite enjoyable. At the end of the movie Colleen and I went up to the stage and sat behind our official microphones and let the opinions roll. It was great to see the students participate in the discussion as Venugopal (a scholarly man who put us up to this. He is studying the acquisition of language in the child brain and visits RIMS often) stated that this was the first program of its kind that the students have attended. Many of the participating students expressed interest in more progressive ways of learning (like in DPS), or commented on the teacher-student relationship. Our comments and questions came to an end and we snapped some pics with some students and headed back to Kannur in the sweltering, jam packed train--first falling asleep standing up and then practicing Malayalam with a cluster of dudes.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Jumbo Circus
Tuesday, November 9
9:30 pm
Ticket to the Jumbo Circus-- Rs 40 (90 cents)
Ice cream and popcorn-- Rs 40
Seeing acrobats, bendy woman, frolicking camels, ripped African men making pyramids in their underwear, hula hoop woman, and an elephant playing cricket….in INDIA ---priceless!
9:30 pm
Ticket to the Jumbo Circus-- Rs 40 (90 cents)
Ice cream and popcorn-- Rs 40
Seeing acrobats, bendy woman, frolicking camels, ripped African men making pyramids in their underwear, hula hoop woman, and an elephant playing cricket….in INDIA ---priceless!
India Theme Park
Monday, November 8
Holy crap a gazillion things happen and a week flies by without any blogging! Maybe I could turn this blog into some reality show where I leave you dangling by a thread each week, "stay tuned for Frolic sin Fronteras, summer season 1." Get it? Summer season? baha! I'd like to thank Barb Ryan for my pun skills, and the honking motor vehicles outside my window for sleep deprivation.
I'll start by explaining "babox" like I promised last entry. There are many occasions where Colleen and I will find a situation completely normal until one reminds the other of how extremely strange, awkward, hilarious, or foreign the situation really is. Now we use "T-II" when we encounter something that we have only seen in India, and it typically refers to one individual thing. Example: I see a man on a motorcycle, steering with one hand, rolled up mattress in a one arm bear hug. I would say 'babox' when referring to an entire situation. Stating 'babox' calls attention to the situation so that both Americans can take a step outside the box and glance in at the absurdity of their lives at that moment. Example: Summer and Colleen get on the Disco Spin (equivalent of the 'merry mixer') at the local theme park in Kannur. Summer says, "babox" and instantly both Americans freeze the situation at hand and take a gander at whats happening. We are on a sketchy carnival-like ride, listening to Indian techno, barefoot, soaking wet pants and long shirts, and watching a mother and her baby no more than 1 spin around in the car next to us…..oh and the baby is laughing and clapping to the techno beat. Yeah thats cool…. wait WHAT?!
Now you are just dying to find out about this theme park experience! Anis Sir decided that we should see the local amusement park and gave Colleen and I tickets to attend on Sunday! We had a cute little RIMS group go and we all had a blast. I was very impressed with Vasco de Gama's Ship (a rickety replica of the Battering Ram at Busch Gardens), the mini water flume ride with one 6 person car for the whole park, the Wonder Show (sit in a theater that moves with the movie) the twisty water rides, and the gender separated wave pool that went off only at 3 pm. At the beginning of the day when we all placed our belongings in the locker, I was told to remove my shoes. "i thought we were riding the dry rides first," I said. …:::look at the American awkwardly:::…"yea we are," replies Aaliya. Summer--"Well, don't we have to wear shoes to ride the dry rides? Like isn't that required?" "No! Of course not! How would we ride the wet rides after if we had our shoes on!?" exclaims Aaliya so matter of factly. Well there I go breaking Rule #1…dangit its so hard sometimes! So we frolicked about the park barefoot wearing long pants and shirts on dry and wet rides alike. I was elated to arrive at the Wonder Show,--who knew that India had a rendition of the old school Questar or Corkscrew Hill from Busch Gardens? We all settle into our seats when the screen illuminates to a Windows Desktop. We watch the cursor move to a folder, double click, and then double click again on a Run Program icon. Bahhahaha it took all I had to not die laughing! Aside from the awkward intro of some old man in overalls sending us into the deadly coal mine roller coaster, it was so much fun! Aaliya cracked me up with her Barb Ryan ride-screaming skills as every twist, turn, and twitch jolted a piercing screech. The day was a great break from the school's chaos, and we all trudged in Monday morning with big silly grins. It was a great time!
The theme park also prompted another Sumleen term of which I'll let you decipher yourself: 'lawsuit'
Holy crap a gazillion things happen and a week flies by without any blogging! Maybe I could turn this blog into some reality show where I leave you dangling by a thread each week, "stay tuned for Frolic sin Fronteras, summer season 1." Get it? Summer season? baha! I'd like to thank Barb Ryan for my pun skills, and the honking motor vehicles outside my window for sleep deprivation.
I'll start by explaining "babox" like I promised last entry. There are many occasions where Colleen and I will find a situation completely normal until one reminds the other of how extremely strange, awkward, hilarious, or foreign the situation really is. Now we use "T-II" when we encounter something that we have only seen in India, and it typically refers to one individual thing. Example: I see a man on a motorcycle, steering with one hand, rolled up mattress in a one arm bear hug. I would say 'babox' when referring to an entire situation. Stating 'babox' calls attention to the situation so that both Americans can take a step outside the box and glance in at the absurdity of their lives at that moment. Example: Summer and Colleen get on the Disco Spin (equivalent of the 'merry mixer') at the local theme park in Kannur. Summer says, "babox" and instantly both Americans freeze the situation at hand and take a gander at whats happening. We are on a sketchy carnival-like ride, listening to Indian techno, barefoot, soaking wet pants and long shirts, and watching a mother and her baby no more than 1 spin around in the car next to us…..oh and the baby is laughing and clapping to the techno beat. Yeah thats cool…. wait WHAT?!
Now you are just dying to find out about this theme park experience! Anis Sir decided that we should see the local amusement park and gave Colleen and I tickets to attend on Sunday! We had a cute little RIMS group go and we all had a blast. I was very impressed with Vasco de Gama's Ship (a rickety replica of the Battering Ram at Busch Gardens), the mini water flume ride with one 6 person car for the whole park, the Wonder Show (sit in a theater that moves with the movie) the twisty water rides, and the gender separated wave pool that went off only at 3 pm. At the beginning of the day when we all placed our belongings in the locker, I was told to remove my shoes. "i thought we were riding the dry rides first," I said. …:::look at the American awkwardly:::…"yea we are," replies Aaliya. Summer--"Well, don't we have to wear shoes to ride the dry rides? Like isn't that required?" "No! Of course not! How would we ride the wet rides after if we had our shoes on!?" exclaims Aaliya so matter of factly. Well there I go breaking Rule #1…dangit its so hard sometimes! So we frolicked about the park barefoot wearing long pants and shirts on dry and wet rides alike. I was elated to arrive at the Wonder Show,--who knew that India had a rendition of the old school Questar or Corkscrew Hill from Busch Gardens? We all settle into our seats when the screen illuminates to a Windows Desktop. We watch the cursor move to a folder, double click, and then double click again on a Run Program icon. Bahhahaha it took all I had to not die laughing! Aside from the awkward intro of some old man in overalls sending us into the deadly coal mine roller coaster, it was so much fun! Aaliya cracked me up with her Barb Ryan ride-screaming skills as every twist, turn, and twitch jolted a piercing screech. The day was a great break from the school's chaos, and we all trudged in Monday morning with big silly grins. It was a great time!
The theme park also prompted another Sumleen term of which I'll let you decipher yourself: 'lawsuit'
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Baboon
October 31, Sunday
10 pm
Colleen scurries through the doorway, arms full of our water bottles and worksheets (hopefully enough to keep us occupied) in a hurried scuttle into our quarantine bedroom for probably the rest of the night.
"How many are there?" inquires Summer, huddled behind her computer….
"10 to 15. Im not sure!"
….::: baby crying and malayalam mumbles in background:::…….
At 9:30 pm on a Sunday, our new 'mama roomy' rolls up with the whole gang, probably from the wedding for which she left at at about 10 this morning. Colleen and I normally would have stayed and interacted with our lovely new house guests; however, our energy for sitting and smiling awkwardly (while Malayalam is tossed back and forth around us like a dodge ball game), was runnin on slim pickins considering we had already received 3 other unannounced house guests (one being the principal of RIMS)….no big deal. And we do love company, but by this time I had also already changed into my 'scandalous' basketball shorts, and had no intention of turning back.
This is a TdoubleI moment. This is also a 'babox' moment. ….and I want everyone to know that my typing application just tried to auto-correct my word 'babox' to baboon. While I find this hilarious and am considering informing Colleen that we should say baboon instead, I would like you to know that if I say "baboon," I probably mean "babox" (ah! did it again!)
The noise subsided so Colleen went out to investigate the house occupancy….she comes back in with the I'm-gonna-quote-someone-right-now-face and says, "One woman stay tonight. my auntie. She know Enlglish. I will bring pepsi tomorrow." Splendid!
--------I may or may not need a blood transfusion considering the amount of "debris" on my leg from the mosquito I just assassinated. GUACATELA!!!
Ok, but the irony about baboons here is that I did, in fact, encounter baboon-like creatures on Friday on a field trip to Snake Park with 4th-6th standard. I did not agree to attend this educational excursion until it was confirmed that the 'snakes' were contained. I mean jeez, Snake Park makes it sound like some theme reptile getaway filled with hot rock slides and fizzy venom drinks. i was assured that they were contained and not sipping fizzy venom drinks by the poolside. The name would indicate the presence of only slithering reptiles, yet there were some screeching, awkward-bottomed, baboon-like friends there. In addition to the 20 something species of snakes, there were peacocks and peahens, porcupines, "forest cat", "bobby cat," owls, doves, other birds, and crocodiles. One area mimicked a gladiator arena, where visitors could crowd around and watch a cluster of various snake species massacre one another. Just looking inside the uncovered, occupied coliseum gave me a big VVVDEEEWWWWWAAAAASSHHZZXVVV shiver down my spine. Ugh, I am not into snakes. But I did enjoy looking at the king cobra (which can get up to 15 meters kids!) The rest was an extremely depressing environment; while Im walking beneath a canopy of palms, breathing the fresh green air, I look into a row of 8 x 8 ft bare cement cages, all of which had a corner where a lonely animal or two huddled to sleep, or peered out eagerly at all the curious faces from outside. I felt really bad for them. Who knew that a porcupine could tug at my heart strings, but as a family of three (yes there was a lil baby!) paced back and forth along the bars as each onlooker passed by, I felt an impending urge to use some hidden Magneto power to bend all the cage bars and scream, "be free wild beasts!!" The baboonish monkeys were in a much larger cage, propped on the cage bars, shivering, whimpering and screeching as we watched. No me gusta.
Well I have significantly gotten off track as I originally intended to explain babox. Looks like you'll just have to stay tuned because my cold medicine is putting me into a foggy stupor, and the letters are starting to belly dance before my very eyes.
10 pm
Colleen scurries through the doorway, arms full of our water bottles and worksheets (hopefully enough to keep us occupied) in a hurried scuttle into our quarantine bedroom for probably the rest of the night.
"How many are there?" inquires Summer, huddled behind her computer….
"10 to 15. Im not sure!"
….::: baby crying and malayalam mumbles in background:::…….
At 9:30 pm on a Sunday, our new 'mama roomy' rolls up with the whole gang, probably from the wedding for which she left at at about 10 this morning. Colleen and I normally would have stayed and interacted with our lovely new house guests; however, our energy for sitting and smiling awkwardly (while Malayalam is tossed back and forth around us like a dodge ball game), was runnin on slim pickins considering we had already received 3 other unannounced house guests (one being the principal of RIMS)….no big deal. And we do love company, but by this time I had also already changed into my 'scandalous' basketball shorts, and had no intention of turning back.
This is a TdoubleI moment. This is also a 'babox' moment. ….and I want everyone to know that my typing application just tried to auto-correct my word 'babox' to baboon. While I find this hilarious and am considering informing Colleen that we should say baboon instead, I would like you to know that if I say "baboon," I probably mean "babox" (ah! did it again!)
The noise subsided so Colleen went out to investigate the house occupancy….she comes back in with the I'm-gonna-quote-someone-right-now-face and says, "One woman stay tonight. my auntie. She know Enlglish. I will bring pepsi tomorrow." Splendid!
--------I may or may not need a blood transfusion considering the amount of "debris" on my leg from the mosquito I just assassinated. GUACATELA!!!
Ok, but the irony about baboons here is that I did, in fact, encounter baboon-like creatures on Friday on a field trip to Snake Park with 4th-6th standard. I did not agree to attend this educational excursion until it was confirmed that the 'snakes' were contained. I mean jeez, Snake Park makes it sound like some theme reptile getaway filled with hot rock slides and fizzy venom drinks. i was assured that they were contained and not sipping fizzy venom drinks by the poolside. The name would indicate the presence of only slithering reptiles, yet there were some screeching, awkward-bottomed, baboon-like friends there. In addition to the 20 something species of snakes, there were peacocks and peahens, porcupines, "forest cat", "bobby cat," owls, doves, other birds, and crocodiles. One area mimicked a gladiator arena, where visitors could crowd around and watch a cluster of various snake species massacre one another. Just looking inside the uncovered, occupied coliseum gave me a big VVVDEEEWWWWWAAAAASSHHZZXVVV shiver down my spine. Ugh, I am not into snakes. But I did enjoy looking at the king cobra (which can get up to 15 meters kids!) The rest was an extremely depressing environment; while Im walking beneath a canopy of palms, breathing the fresh green air, I look into a row of 8 x 8 ft bare cement cages, all of which had a corner where a lonely animal or two huddled to sleep, or peered out eagerly at all the curious faces from outside. I felt really bad for them. Who knew that a porcupine could tug at my heart strings, but as a family of three (yes there was a lil baby!) paced back and forth along the bars as each onlooker passed by, I felt an impending urge to use some hidden Magneto power to bend all the cage bars and scream, "be free wild beasts!!" The baboonish monkeys were in a much larger cage, propped on the cage bars, shivering, whimpering and screeching as we watched. No me gusta.
Well I have significantly gotten off track as I originally intended to explain babox. Looks like you'll just have to stay tuned because my cold medicine is putting me into a foggy stupor, and the letters are starting to belly dance before my very eyes.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Political and Digestive Bombs (yeah, I took it there)
October 28, Thursday
7:15 am
I've spent the past 32 hours in a throbbing supine position, shivering with fever beneath a bed sheet while dozing in and out of consciousness. This hibernation period was sprinkled with bursts of wrenching aches, and peppered with random bouts of digestive extremes of which I'll spare the details. I'd awaken from dozing dreams long enough to pull my face from a pool of drool on my pillow, and gingerly roll over to a fetal position beneath the breeze of the fan. I chuckle at my previous assumption from a previous blog: that the cold-like sickness that plagued me last week would disappear and I would magically become immune to India… there I go breaking rule number 1. My wandering thoughts are jolted from me as I thrash upright in reaction to what sounds like several bombs. I look outside my window to see the round-a-bout flooded with people, flags, un-recognizable traffic flow, motorcycles, honking buses, and very unsuccessful khaki-clad policemen attempting to disperse the crowd. Its a dag-gon' jubilee! Everyone is cheering, music is blaring, and caravans of men on motorcycles sport a waving kelly green flag with the Muslim symbol (crescent moon and star) in the upper left corner. I glance around and notice that all shops are closed. Ok, the results of the election must have been announced.
While I'm in my bedroom flicking spiders off my bare shoulder, flinching in bone-deep aches, and watching these political shenanigans outside my window, Colleen is at school getting the low-down from Aaliya. Aaliya explained that "Sometimes if a political party doesn't win, they will set off bombs. I hope that doesn't happen today,"…and then later approached Colleen to say "the UNF party was successful. Sometimes they set off bombs if they win." With all puzzle pieces placed together, one could deduce that the bomb-like sounds outside my window 1. were, in fact, actual bombs, and 2. apparently celebratory "good" bombs. Mmmk time for the mental note of the day: Elections in Kannur = Bombs…..comforting.
This morning, I have emerged from my quarantined space to make some kapi, in hopes that it will melt away the atrocious bags beneath my eyes, along with the co-morbid exhaustion. It hits my stomach with a piercing jab, as the two tiny pieces of bready pizza didn't stay in my stomach for long. While I still feel achy, I'm definitely a lot better than yesterday, and am preparing to go into school to at least start making puppets for the Montessori program. I'd like to give a shout out to Colleen for getting me some Sprite yesterday---it made me feel at home because whenever I had a tummy illness as a kid, Barb Ryan would let me have soda :-). I'd also like to say thanks to Aaliya for calling to see if I was ok, and offering to bring anything I needed. It was so sweet (as we've talked a lot about the many cultural differences between India and America) when she said "Do you want me to bring you some bread? Here when people get sick, we give them bread to eat… I don't know what you people do." Hehe, I simply reply, "thats the same 'round the world, sista!"
7:15 am
I've spent the past 32 hours in a throbbing supine position, shivering with fever beneath a bed sheet while dozing in and out of consciousness. This hibernation period was sprinkled with bursts of wrenching aches, and peppered with random bouts of digestive extremes of which I'll spare the details. I'd awaken from dozing dreams long enough to pull my face from a pool of drool on my pillow, and gingerly roll over to a fetal position beneath the breeze of the fan. I chuckle at my previous assumption from a previous blog: that the cold-like sickness that plagued me last week would disappear and I would magically become immune to India… there I go breaking rule number 1. My wandering thoughts are jolted from me as I thrash upright in reaction to what sounds like several bombs. I look outside my window to see the round-a-bout flooded with people, flags, un-recognizable traffic flow, motorcycles, honking buses, and very unsuccessful khaki-clad policemen attempting to disperse the crowd. Its a dag-gon' jubilee! Everyone is cheering, music is blaring, and caravans of men on motorcycles sport a waving kelly green flag with the Muslim symbol (crescent moon and star) in the upper left corner. I glance around and notice that all shops are closed. Ok, the results of the election must have been announced.
While I'm in my bedroom flicking spiders off my bare shoulder, flinching in bone-deep aches, and watching these political shenanigans outside my window, Colleen is at school getting the low-down from Aaliya. Aaliya explained that "Sometimes if a political party doesn't win, they will set off bombs. I hope that doesn't happen today,"…and then later approached Colleen to say "the UNF party was successful. Sometimes they set off bombs if they win." With all puzzle pieces placed together, one could deduce that the bomb-like sounds outside my window 1. were, in fact, actual bombs, and 2. apparently celebratory "good" bombs. Mmmk time for the mental note of the day: Elections in Kannur = Bombs…..comforting.
This morning, I have emerged from my quarantined space to make some kapi, in hopes that it will melt away the atrocious bags beneath my eyes, along with the co-morbid exhaustion. It hits my stomach with a piercing jab, as the two tiny pieces of bready pizza didn't stay in my stomach for long. While I still feel achy, I'm definitely a lot better than yesterday, and am preparing to go into school to at least start making puppets for the Montessori program. I'd like to give a shout out to Colleen for getting me some Sprite yesterday---it made me feel at home because whenever I had a tummy illness as a kid, Barb Ryan would let me have soda :-). I'd also like to say thanks to Aaliya for calling to see if I was ok, and offering to bring anything I needed. It was so sweet (as we've talked a lot about the many cultural differences between India and America) when she said "Do you want me to bring you some bread? Here when people get sick, we give them bread to eat… I don't know what you people do." Hehe, I simply reply, "thats the same 'round the world, sista!"
Monday, October 25, 2010
T double I
Monday, October 25
10:30 am
Apologies for the large gap between blogs. Colleen and I have been fully immersed into the chaotic lives of teachers abroad. The past week we have felt the most emotionally and physically drained, overwhelmed, ill, sensitive, and… well, bitchy. A culmination of chaos and disorder at school, infinite interpersonal interaction, montessori children ripping buttons off our shirts, constant language barriers, men standing a body length away from us at the beach to stare, spiciest food of my life, and new living situation thrust Colleen and I into a swirling, hostile vortex, leaving us disoriented, unbalanced, and helplessly grasping for familiarity. I believe this past week was our TRUE initiation into India, and here we are walking out into the next week with our chests puffed and heads held high, ready to take on anything. I would consider myself a "ride the wave" or "rolling with the punches" type person; however, never underestimate what new emotions an unfamiliar culture can conjure. We'll just say my 'wing it' trait has increased by ten fold even within this past week. Colleen's and my friendship/roommate-ship/ colleagueship/ and every other 'ship' has been shifted, smacked, and rolled around in the back of some metaphoric cement truck. We have come out this fine Monday as Sumleen, I'd say---a single unit of American chicks trying to make a difference and survive in another hemisphere. Sumleen has invented a new word in our ever-growing, multilingual dictionary:
TII; also written T double I--- an acronym standing for This Is India, derived from the movie Blood Diamond where one says TIA, or This Is Africa. Word is used in any sensory contact with a situation that would occur only in India. Such situations would most likely to bewilder, upset, or terrify one from the West. Word may be used in any context ranging from confusion, fury, or hilarity.
While on the subject of words, Sumleen has vowed (regardless of whether we are speaking English, Spanish, Malayalam, Hindi, etc) to use the Malayalam word "bakshanam" whenever referring to "food", as it translates to English as "meal" or "food" and it is probably the funnest word to say. Try it! Bakshanam, bakshanam, bakshanam, BAK-SHA-NAM!
Now back to these dazzling past seven days…..
After almost a month working at RIMS, Sumleen was supposed to finally receive a time table (you get looked at like a deer in headlights if you say 'schedule') for our classes at school. The past weeks we have simply been assigned random classes and sent to them with 2 minute notice, forced to rack our brains and rummage thru notebooks for lessons and games for any age under 13. This I don't mind because I like to wing it with my lessons anyways; as I think the energy of the kids and classroom will determine what lesson will suit that day. However, I have also been assigned the task of teaching art and volleyball (YAY!), but still have not been informed what age level and the frequency of my classes. Again, this is not a huge deal but it can be a bit stressful when someone runs up to you and says "can you go teach art to 5th and 6th standard right now?" "Sure!"… I am forced to develop a lesson plan and collect my materials in the 30 second walk to the classroom around back. "Ok class, today we are going to illustrate our haikus and they will be put on display on November 14th for all the parents and students"….hey, I only had computer paper and 30 minutes. Or the "can you do English with 2nd standard for the next hour?" ..:::head wobble:::… I speed walk to the classroom (god knows these kids are spastic little buggers) and whip out a dialogue and/or game from my lesson stash. Colleen has been assigned drama with the kids, and she has worked painfully hard in trying to come up with feasible and acceptable (don't forget, conservative Muslim school) songs and plays for the students to perform on November 14. Poor Colleen has been trapped inside a pinball machine, being shot about from teacher to teacher, to ideas encouraged and shot down, plans made and erased, "boys and girls must be separate" "the older girls can't be in the play now" "oh! we would rather you teach them a song rather than a play"…all input threatening to hospitalize poor Colleen with an imminent panic attack. Head-honcho-drama-leen has braved thru this week and was finally able to settle on three performances: a play for the older boys, a song for the younger kids, and song for the older girls. I played the assistant role, helping decide appropriate plays/songs, advising/encouraging, and helping with auditions and rehearsals. We work well together :-) When she starts to panic, I assert a spiraling Colleen ma'am back to feasible reality. When I'm burning up in frustration, Colleen will look at me knowingly and turn me around to see a pudgy-cheeked montessori nugget*--- a remedy that always melts my steaming hot face to a warm smile inside. Kids have that effect on me.
Sumleen had pretty much assumed at this point that we would probably not get a Montessori training teacher to stay at our flat. We were told when we first arrived that we would receive permanent company, none of which ever arrived. We were getting quite comfy with our own spacious rooms, walking around in our underwear, watching LOST in the common room while eating obscene amounts of chocolate (don't judge, we need comfort food), and experimenting with indian ingredients (yielding both failure and success). On Friday, we were informed that one of the montessori teachers, Noor (a hilarious and bubbly 20-year-old doing a two year internship at RIMS to become Montessori certified) and her mother would come to live with us this weekend. Hey, its India, who doesn't love company? Sumleen was more than happy to welcome them to our flat on Saturday (we were told Sunday but they rolled up Saturday instead…T double I) but couldn't resist giggling at the whole situation and the inevitable awkwardness to come.
Cultural Experiment
Exhibit A: Summer and Colleen
Variables-- liberal, fairly naked, American, un-defined religion, speak English, Spanish, bits of Malayalam
Exhibit B: Noor and Mama
Variables-- conservative, burka-wearing, Indian, Muslim, speak limited English (Noor only), speak Malayalam, Kannada, Urdu, Hindi, Arabic, Tamil
Constants: roof, female, arms, legs, speaking in native language in hopes other will magically understand, smiling
Observations:
1. I have never felt so naked in a t-shirt and capris.
2. The Indian conspiracy to fatten up the Americans continues. Hovering loaded spoon situation lives on. Mama makes good food, but I'm not a panda bear….don't they eat their body weight in bamboo?
3. Mama and Sumleen can communicate efficiently enough with hand motions, dictionaries, and smiles. Any 'conversation' is always left with a healthy laugh and understanding of not understanding.
4. Americans' Malayalam improves, Indians' English improves.
4. Noor and Sumleen had a great conversation on Islam and "Sumleenism."** Exhibits display signs of success in cultural exchange.
If you are not grasping the hilarity of my life right now, then …. well…. just grasp it people.
*nugget--a word derived from Charlyn Dahilig referring to a small child and/or human, typically adorable in appearance
**A small note on Sumleenism. I may try and explain this more later but by some crazy world twist, Colleen and I have been put together on this earth and we have found that we believe pretty much the exact same thing. Explaining to people here that we are not Christian, but very familiar with it, alone is complicated enough. Everyone at RIMS has assumed that as Americans, we must be Christian. (Don't forget Rule #1) Anyways, its been difficult to explain a nutshell of our beliefs in the wadded up combo of truth in all religions, presence of good/bad energies, throw in some Eat, Pray, Love philosophy, and law of attraction. However, I think we have gotten the idea across to Asiya, Aaliya, and Noor.
P.S. I forgot to mention that there is no school today because there is another strike. T double I.
10:30 am
Apologies for the large gap between blogs. Colleen and I have been fully immersed into the chaotic lives of teachers abroad. The past week we have felt the most emotionally and physically drained, overwhelmed, ill, sensitive, and… well, bitchy. A culmination of chaos and disorder at school, infinite interpersonal interaction, montessori children ripping buttons off our shirts, constant language barriers, men standing a body length away from us at the beach to stare, spiciest food of my life, and new living situation thrust Colleen and I into a swirling, hostile vortex, leaving us disoriented, unbalanced, and helplessly grasping for familiarity. I believe this past week was our TRUE initiation into India, and here we are walking out into the next week with our chests puffed and heads held high, ready to take on anything. I would consider myself a "ride the wave" or "rolling with the punches" type person; however, never underestimate what new emotions an unfamiliar culture can conjure. We'll just say my 'wing it' trait has increased by ten fold even within this past week. Colleen's and my friendship/roommate-ship/ colleagueship/ and every other 'ship' has been shifted, smacked, and rolled around in the back of some metaphoric cement truck. We have come out this fine Monday as Sumleen, I'd say---a single unit of American chicks trying to make a difference and survive in another hemisphere. Sumleen has invented a new word in our ever-growing, multilingual dictionary:
TII; also written T double I--- an acronym standing for This Is India, derived from the movie Blood Diamond where one says TIA, or This Is Africa. Word is used in any sensory contact with a situation that would occur only in India. Such situations would most likely to bewilder, upset, or terrify one from the West. Word may be used in any context ranging from confusion, fury, or hilarity.
While on the subject of words, Sumleen has vowed (regardless of whether we are speaking English, Spanish, Malayalam, Hindi, etc) to use the Malayalam word "bakshanam" whenever referring to "food", as it translates to English as "meal" or "food" and it is probably the funnest word to say. Try it! Bakshanam, bakshanam, bakshanam, BAK-SHA-NAM!
Now back to these dazzling past seven days…..
After almost a month working at RIMS, Sumleen was supposed to finally receive a time table (you get looked at like a deer in headlights if you say 'schedule') for our classes at school. The past weeks we have simply been assigned random classes and sent to them with 2 minute notice, forced to rack our brains and rummage thru notebooks for lessons and games for any age under 13. This I don't mind because I like to wing it with my lessons anyways; as I think the energy of the kids and classroom will determine what lesson will suit that day. However, I have also been assigned the task of teaching art and volleyball (YAY!), but still have not been informed what age level and the frequency of my classes. Again, this is not a huge deal but it can be a bit stressful when someone runs up to you and says "can you go teach art to 5th and 6th standard right now?" "Sure!"… I am forced to develop a lesson plan and collect my materials in the 30 second walk to the classroom around back. "Ok class, today we are going to illustrate our haikus and they will be put on display on November 14th for all the parents and students"….hey, I only had computer paper and 30 minutes. Or the "can you do English with 2nd standard for the next hour?" ..:::head wobble:::… I speed walk to the classroom (god knows these kids are spastic little buggers) and whip out a dialogue and/or game from my lesson stash. Colleen has been assigned drama with the kids, and she has worked painfully hard in trying to come up with feasible and acceptable (don't forget, conservative Muslim school) songs and plays for the students to perform on November 14. Poor Colleen has been trapped inside a pinball machine, being shot about from teacher to teacher, to ideas encouraged and shot down, plans made and erased, "boys and girls must be separate" "the older girls can't be in the play now" "oh! we would rather you teach them a song rather than a play"…all input threatening to hospitalize poor Colleen with an imminent panic attack. Head-honcho-drama-leen has braved thru this week and was finally able to settle on three performances: a play for the older boys, a song for the younger kids, and song for the older girls. I played the assistant role, helping decide appropriate plays/songs, advising/encouraging, and helping with auditions and rehearsals. We work well together :-) When she starts to panic, I assert a spiraling Colleen ma'am back to feasible reality. When I'm burning up in frustration, Colleen will look at me knowingly and turn me around to see a pudgy-cheeked montessori nugget*--- a remedy that always melts my steaming hot face to a warm smile inside. Kids have that effect on me.
Sumleen had pretty much assumed at this point that we would probably not get a Montessori training teacher to stay at our flat. We were told when we first arrived that we would receive permanent company, none of which ever arrived. We were getting quite comfy with our own spacious rooms, walking around in our underwear, watching LOST in the common room while eating obscene amounts of chocolate (don't judge, we need comfort food), and experimenting with indian ingredients (yielding both failure and success). On Friday, we were informed that one of the montessori teachers, Noor (a hilarious and bubbly 20-year-old doing a two year internship at RIMS to become Montessori certified) and her mother would come to live with us this weekend. Hey, its India, who doesn't love company? Sumleen was more than happy to welcome them to our flat on Saturday (we were told Sunday but they rolled up Saturday instead…T double I) but couldn't resist giggling at the whole situation and the inevitable awkwardness to come.
Cultural Experiment
Exhibit A: Summer and Colleen
Variables-- liberal, fairly naked, American, un-defined religion, speak English, Spanish, bits of Malayalam
Exhibit B: Noor and Mama
Variables-- conservative, burka-wearing, Indian, Muslim, speak limited English (Noor only), speak Malayalam, Kannada, Urdu, Hindi, Arabic, Tamil
Constants: roof, female, arms, legs, speaking in native language in hopes other will magically understand, smiling
Observations:
1. I have never felt so naked in a t-shirt and capris.
2. The Indian conspiracy to fatten up the Americans continues. Hovering loaded spoon situation lives on. Mama makes good food, but I'm not a panda bear….don't they eat their body weight in bamboo?
3. Mama and Sumleen can communicate efficiently enough with hand motions, dictionaries, and smiles. Any 'conversation' is always left with a healthy laugh and understanding of not understanding.
4. Americans' Malayalam improves, Indians' English improves.
4. Noor and Sumleen had a great conversation on Islam and "Sumleenism."** Exhibits display signs of success in cultural exchange.
If you are not grasping the hilarity of my life right now, then …. well…. just grasp it people.
*nugget--a word derived from Charlyn Dahilig referring to a small child and/or human, typically adorable in appearance
**A small note on Sumleenism. I may try and explain this more later but by some crazy world twist, Colleen and I have been put together on this earth and we have found that we believe pretty much the exact same thing. Explaining to people here that we are not Christian, but very familiar with it, alone is complicated enough. Everyone at RIMS has assumed that as Americans, we must be Christian. (Don't forget Rule #1) Anyways, its been difficult to explain a nutshell of our beliefs in the wadded up combo of truth in all religions, presence of good/bad energies, throw in some Eat, Pray, Love philosophy, and law of attraction. However, I think we have gotten the idea across to Asiya, Aaliya, and Noor.
P.S. I forgot to mention that there is no school today because there is another strike. T double I.
Flashback: Last days and last thoughts in Calcutta
Wednesday October 20
I finished another book, "The three mistakes of my life" by Chetan Bhagat. It was a quick and entertaining read about 3 guys who started up a cricket shop. The author is apparently the largest selling English writing author in India. I was looking for another book yesterday and opened up 80 things you need to know about India and out fell a sheet of paper with a journal entry on it! I had actually been looking for this entry when I first arrived to Kannur. I wrote it on one of my last days in Kolkata and had intended to post it in my blog as a transitional entry. I have written several of my blogs first on paper, as sometimes I think it enhances the authenticity of documenting a travel experience. Anyways, I probably shouldn't do that as much since I clearly cant keep track of the paper; but here it is, a journal entry written from inside my room in Kolkata in the last days of September……
I doze off in the dimly lit salmon-tinted room. My eyelids flutter as thunder rolls across the sky, and raindrops patter faster on the streets outside. The midday heat steams away in an evening sigh. A cool breeze pours thru the windows into the swirl of the overhead fan, brushing wisps of damp hair across my forehead. My book, The Namesake, rises and falls on my chest, begging to be picked up again…but my heavy eyelids resist. I will simply just be right now, listening to the soothing splashes in the street, and tiny drum rolls of the Calcutta rainfall. Good thing I hung up my laundry inside today. The clouds roll in to hurry the dusk, leaving only the yellow of the street lamps and glowing barred windows to light up the dirt road winding between homes.
Such a great way to end an exhausting week. While exhausting, this week has been so rewarding, nerve-racking, and spontaneous. It started on Monday with me picking my nails and fidgeting around before giving my first lesson to sixty little bright eyed girls dressed in immaculate blue skirts and pressed white shirts. It ended teaching a different bunch of girls, same smiles and styles, but with a more confident, less fidgety version of myself. I feel inspired, ready to embark upon the next chapter of my life here in India. Its weird looking back on where I was a year ago and where I am today. I was an emotional hot mess--feeling trapped in the possibility that I just might get stuck in the American bubble, about to graduate, desperate for a ticket to anywhere but America, feeling alone. Here I am in India, across the world, about to teach English to little kids. This is what I've wanted, and this is what I will do. I feel so free now, like I can do anything. I guess my point is that I finally feel alive again, like I've woken up and leaped out of the ditch in which I trudged in for the better part of this year. I started walking down the road again---riding the wave---head held high. Let's see where it takes me.
I finished another book, "The three mistakes of my life" by Chetan Bhagat. It was a quick and entertaining read about 3 guys who started up a cricket shop. The author is apparently the largest selling English writing author in India. I was looking for another book yesterday and opened up 80 things you need to know about India and out fell a sheet of paper with a journal entry on it! I had actually been looking for this entry when I first arrived to Kannur. I wrote it on one of my last days in Kolkata and had intended to post it in my blog as a transitional entry. I have written several of my blogs first on paper, as sometimes I think it enhances the authenticity of documenting a travel experience. Anyways, I probably shouldn't do that as much since I clearly cant keep track of the paper; but here it is, a journal entry written from inside my room in Kolkata in the last days of September……
I doze off in the dimly lit salmon-tinted room. My eyelids flutter as thunder rolls across the sky, and raindrops patter faster on the streets outside. The midday heat steams away in an evening sigh. A cool breeze pours thru the windows into the swirl of the overhead fan, brushing wisps of damp hair across my forehead. My book, The Namesake, rises and falls on my chest, begging to be picked up again…but my heavy eyelids resist. I will simply just be right now, listening to the soothing splashes in the street, and tiny drum rolls of the Calcutta rainfall. Good thing I hung up my laundry inside today. The clouds roll in to hurry the dusk, leaving only the yellow of the street lamps and glowing barred windows to light up the dirt road winding between homes.
Such a great way to end an exhausting week. While exhausting, this week has been so rewarding, nerve-racking, and spontaneous. It started on Monday with me picking my nails and fidgeting around before giving my first lesson to sixty little bright eyed girls dressed in immaculate blue skirts and pressed white shirts. It ended teaching a different bunch of girls, same smiles and styles, but with a more confident, less fidgety version of myself. I feel inspired, ready to embark upon the next chapter of my life here in India. Its weird looking back on where I was a year ago and where I am today. I was an emotional hot mess--feeling trapped in the possibility that I just might get stuck in the American bubble, about to graduate, desperate for a ticket to anywhere but America, feeling alone. Here I am in India, across the world, about to teach English to little kids. This is what I've wanted, and this is what I will do. I feel so free now, like I can do anything. I guess my point is that I finally feel alive again, like I've woken up and leaped out of the ditch in which I trudged in for the better part of this year. I started walking down the road again---riding the wave---head held high. Let's see where it takes me.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Rule #1
Tuesday October 19
6:30 am
Its weird because I have not yet had nothing to say about India, but at this moment I'm at a loss for words. It may be because it is 6:30 in the morning and I'm still waiting for my coffee to cool, or it may be residual medicine effects as I have a gross cold…who knows. Let the ramble begin.
We went to our first Indian wedding on Friday and Saturday. This was a Muslim wedding, the reception is held the night before the ceremony. This is called the "mahendi" which is when the bride and all the women get henna (they call it mahendi in arabic) and everyone dances and eats. Colleen and I got our mahendi on Thursday evening by one of our fellow teachers, Lallu. She did a fantastic job! Check out some of my Facebook pics! I've only seen henna in America as part of the Virginia Beach tourist traps, right next to the hair wraps and psychics….but wow I think Im gonna bring it back and start a trend! I am one of few of my friends who never wishes to get a tattoo---in my generation this seems like the minority. I've always joked that I can just write on myself with a sharpie, and when my fickle mind decides I don't like it five hours later, I can wash it off and draw something else. Well thank you India for introducing me to Mahendi!!! WOooooop! Ok so anyways, the reception. We went in and met Shaihina's (bride) mother, grandmother, sisters, sister cousins, etc…everyone was intrigued about these two amazon white chicks at Shaihina's wedding…who are they?!? We go outside to eat dinner which was the typical dish of biriyani ( rice with meat under it…Im not a big fan as I like colorful meals and not just rice and meat) and we also had a small plate full of some porridge-looking oatmeal with meat in it shenanigan (more carbs and meat)…. I have a slight lapse of judgment and forgot I was in India and looked around for the spoon to eat my interphasial liquid-solid food…bahahah woops… no way sista… you eat that with your fingers just like everything else! This may have been slightly less awkward had I not had the mother and grandmother standing over me watching and waiting with a loaded spoon to ensure the giant white kid gets fed…. you'd think that all Indians have some conspiracy to pull a Hansel and Gretel on all the foreigners because they are ALWAYS trying to give us food…. even if I say "no" or shake my head and block my plate with my arm…PLOP! goes the next serving. Colleen and I have worked out a system… I finish her caffeinated beverages (tea and coffee) and she eats my red meat… we have become masters at stealthily exchanging food items so as to not offend anyone.
On Saturday was the actual wedding. For Muslim weddings, it is common here for the groom's family to go to the mosque with the bride and groom. There they get married and return back to the bride's home where everyone is gathered to celebrate and eat. It is becoming more common now for the bride's family to go to the mosque as well. Colleen and I purchased saris for this occasion and were elated to finally wear the traditional Indian dress. Lallu, again, saved the day and came over in the morning to wrap our saris for us (this is not an easy task people…its one piece of fabric wrapped and pleated and pinned and shimmied around you to make an outfit….you wear a barbie 70's roller rink top too) Anyways, we took tons of pictures and felt super cool wearing our saris. Colleen went for sparkling red, I went with wood/ocean nymph. We both decided that we want to hang our saris in our homes for whenever we return as it is a decorative piece of fabric that could act as a tapestry. We told Aaliya this and she thinks we are weird. She said, "I mean, its not like I could go to America and buy a pair of jeans and then hang it up in my room as a curtain"….good point. We arrived to the wedding, glammed out in sparkling saris and done up hair, and entered into the house. Literally no more than twenty seconds go by and the camera crew comes out of the 'photo room', instructs Shaihina to stand between us and all of a sudden we have bright camera lights and a movie video camera and flashes and cameramen yelling stuff….it felt like I was on the stinkin red carpet! Good lord that was an experience you don't come by often. Everyone looked like royalty in their saris and salwaars. Shaihina was decked out in a purple and gold sari, drenched in gold bangles and chains, with jasmine flowers weaved and dangling all through her hair. I really love all the colors.
Welp, here we all are in colorful, beaded saris (the best dress up gear ever!) and its time to eat. Can you imagine going to a wedding, everyone dressed to the nines, and then sitting down for the dinner and eating rice and meat oatmeal with your hands? Hehe, I can! So real.
I must say that the wedding was not at all what I had expected. It seemed much more mellow with mingling and talking rather than the dancing and chaos you see in the movies. Its funny because Colleen and I have told people on numerous occasions to not assume our lives are like those of celebrities and characters in movies. After we said the wedding was not what we expected, Asiya said, "well, don't expect our lives to be like what you see in movies! haha!" Touche. Asiya has asked about our "huge houses" and what the glamorous life of an American is like. I find it amusing that all of the houses, including Asiya's, that I have visited here, are all larger than the home I grew up in. Kannur is a pretty wealthy area, and the homes are stinkin' huge and gorgeous. Colleen and I are loving that we can set the record straight that not all Americans live like Angelina Jolie, not everywhere is like New York City, and we do not attend balls for fun. Yes, I have been asked if I've been to a ball. I have not for the record. Instead, we explained 'prom' which turned out to be a ridiculous concept as boys and girls mingling like that before marriage would not be accepted here. Let me also state that Kannur is a more conservative city in India. I do not want any of you to take what I see in Kerala or Calcutta or anywhere and apply it to the whole country. I feel like humans have a tendency to generalize and stereotype because everything we learn needs to be placed inside a schema, a labeled file inside our brains. Well STOP IT PEEPS! This is getting the whole world into trouble! Im not gonna fly into a tangent now (see future blogs because it may happen later) but just think twice before you make assumptions about ANYTHING. Remember rule number 1. Never assume anything. I also want everyone to know that I explained to Asiya that not ALL Americans hate Muslims…. as this was her perception. Ok I'm getting very scattered here… time for some more coffee.
6:30 am
Its weird because I have not yet had nothing to say about India, but at this moment I'm at a loss for words. It may be because it is 6:30 in the morning and I'm still waiting for my coffee to cool, or it may be residual medicine effects as I have a gross cold…who knows. Let the ramble begin.
We went to our first Indian wedding on Friday and Saturday. This was a Muslim wedding, the reception is held the night before the ceremony. This is called the "mahendi" which is when the bride and all the women get henna (they call it mahendi in arabic) and everyone dances and eats. Colleen and I got our mahendi on Thursday evening by one of our fellow teachers, Lallu. She did a fantastic job! Check out some of my Facebook pics! I've only seen henna in America as part of the Virginia Beach tourist traps, right next to the hair wraps and psychics….but wow I think Im gonna bring it back and start a trend! I am one of few of my friends who never wishes to get a tattoo---in my generation this seems like the minority. I've always joked that I can just write on myself with a sharpie, and when my fickle mind decides I don't like it five hours later, I can wash it off and draw something else. Well thank you India for introducing me to Mahendi!!! WOooooop! Ok so anyways, the reception. We went in and met Shaihina's (bride) mother, grandmother, sisters, sister cousins, etc…everyone was intrigued about these two amazon white chicks at Shaihina's wedding…who are they?!? We go outside to eat dinner which was the typical dish of biriyani ( rice with meat under it…Im not a big fan as I like colorful meals and not just rice and meat) and we also had a small plate full of some porridge-looking oatmeal with meat in it shenanigan (more carbs and meat)…. I have a slight lapse of judgment and forgot I was in India and looked around for the spoon to eat my interphasial liquid-solid food…bahahah woops… no way sista… you eat that with your fingers just like everything else! This may have been slightly less awkward had I not had the mother and grandmother standing over me watching and waiting with a loaded spoon to ensure the giant white kid gets fed…. you'd think that all Indians have some conspiracy to pull a Hansel and Gretel on all the foreigners because they are ALWAYS trying to give us food…. even if I say "no" or shake my head and block my plate with my arm…PLOP! goes the next serving. Colleen and I have worked out a system… I finish her caffeinated beverages (tea and coffee) and she eats my red meat… we have become masters at stealthily exchanging food items so as to not offend anyone.
On Saturday was the actual wedding. For Muslim weddings, it is common here for the groom's family to go to the mosque with the bride and groom. There they get married and return back to the bride's home where everyone is gathered to celebrate and eat. It is becoming more common now for the bride's family to go to the mosque as well. Colleen and I purchased saris for this occasion and were elated to finally wear the traditional Indian dress. Lallu, again, saved the day and came over in the morning to wrap our saris for us (this is not an easy task people…its one piece of fabric wrapped and pleated and pinned and shimmied around you to make an outfit….you wear a barbie 70's roller rink top too) Anyways, we took tons of pictures and felt super cool wearing our saris. Colleen went for sparkling red, I went with wood/ocean nymph. We both decided that we want to hang our saris in our homes for whenever we return as it is a decorative piece of fabric that could act as a tapestry. We told Aaliya this and she thinks we are weird. She said, "I mean, its not like I could go to America and buy a pair of jeans and then hang it up in my room as a curtain"….good point. We arrived to the wedding, glammed out in sparkling saris and done up hair, and entered into the house. Literally no more than twenty seconds go by and the camera crew comes out of the 'photo room', instructs Shaihina to stand between us and all of a sudden we have bright camera lights and a movie video camera and flashes and cameramen yelling stuff….it felt like I was on the stinkin red carpet! Good lord that was an experience you don't come by often. Everyone looked like royalty in their saris and salwaars. Shaihina was decked out in a purple and gold sari, drenched in gold bangles and chains, with jasmine flowers weaved and dangling all through her hair. I really love all the colors.
Welp, here we all are in colorful, beaded saris (the best dress up gear ever!) and its time to eat. Can you imagine going to a wedding, everyone dressed to the nines, and then sitting down for the dinner and eating rice and meat oatmeal with your hands? Hehe, I can! So real.
I must say that the wedding was not at all what I had expected. It seemed much more mellow with mingling and talking rather than the dancing and chaos you see in the movies. Its funny because Colleen and I have told people on numerous occasions to not assume our lives are like those of celebrities and characters in movies. After we said the wedding was not what we expected, Asiya said, "well, don't expect our lives to be like what you see in movies! haha!" Touche. Asiya has asked about our "huge houses" and what the glamorous life of an American is like. I find it amusing that all of the houses, including Asiya's, that I have visited here, are all larger than the home I grew up in. Kannur is a pretty wealthy area, and the homes are stinkin' huge and gorgeous. Colleen and I are loving that we can set the record straight that not all Americans live like Angelina Jolie, not everywhere is like New York City, and we do not attend balls for fun. Yes, I have been asked if I've been to a ball. I have not for the record. Instead, we explained 'prom' which turned out to be a ridiculous concept as boys and girls mingling like that before marriage would not be accepted here. Let me also state that Kannur is a more conservative city in India. I do not want any of you to take what I see in Kerala or Calcutta or anywhere and apply it to the whole country. I feel like humans have a tendency to generalize and stereotype because everything we learn needs to be placed inside a schema, a labeled file inside our brains. Well STOP IT PEEPS! This is getting the whole world into trouble! Im not gonna fly into a tangent now (see future blogs because it may happen later) but just think twice before you make assumptions about ANYTHING. Remember rule number 1. Never assume anything. I also want everyone to know that I explained to Asiya that not ALL Americans hate Muslims…. as this was her perception. Ok I'm getting very scattered here… time for some more coffee.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Happy Birthday Barb Ryan!!!!
October 14, 2010
Happy Birthday Mom! I love you so much :-)
The fourteenth of October
is a very special day
For it is my mother's
very own birthday
I have watched and learned
She pours passion and soul
Into every ambition,
effort, and goal
An expert of detail
with an intricate mind
Theres no information
Barb Ryan can't find
She taught me patience,
perseverance through tough
This rock solid woman
just never gives up
She showed me outdoors
Our toes in the sand
I learned to explore
Mommy holding my hand
Now I am grown
But even though we're apart
I'm charged with years
of love from her heart
To the woman who
I respect most of all
The encourager, teacher
who picks me up when I fall
She is the one who gave
me confidence and strength
to explore the world
It is her I must thank
I miss you mom,
from your little girl
Here's a happy birthday
from around the world.
Happy Birthday Mom! I love you so much :-)
The fourteenth of October
is a very special day
For it is my mother's
very own birthday
I have watched and learned
She pours passion and soul
Into every ambition,
effort, and goal
An expert of detail
with an intricate mind
Theres no information
Barb Ryan can't find
She taught me patience,
perseverance through tough
This rock solid woman
just never gives up
She showed me outdoors
Our toes in the sand
I learned to explore
Mommy holding my hand
Now I am grown
But even though we're apart
I'm charged with years
of love from her heart
To the woman who
I respect most of all
The encourager, teacher
who picks me up when I fall
She is the one who gave
me confidence and strength
to explore the world
It is her I must thank
I miss you mom,
from your little girl
Here's a happy birthday
from around the world.
Minority Attraction
Tuesday, October 12
By some twist of fate, I have been placed next to a beach here in Kannur. I went there for the first time on Friday for a field trip with the Montessori kids, and then again on Sunday morning for a walk. Its like the beach in Nicaragua! You walk through the lush greenery, coconut trees and all, to the wide beach enclosed with cliffs. If you close your eyes, the humid air is thick on the skin, the sunlight bakes, the waves crash in sets atop the rocks. I wriggle my toes into the steaming sand, churning up the cooler, black layers. On Sunday I was hoping to do this while collecting seashells---cheesy I know but I'm a seashell kid. Anyways, Colleen and I arrived at the beach at 8 am on Sunday morning and it was completely packed…men only. Now you guys may be like jeez suck it up and just go for a run like you planned. The thing is, it is EXHAUSTING being the minority sometimes. This is difficult for me to explain, but bear with me. Here, meaning India, the women stare as much as the men, who stare as much as the children, who stare as much as everyone. I am under a microscope constantly…. they are watching, judging, watching, judging (haha thats actually a shout out for Katherine Courage)…but anyways… people here are very curious and therefore stare with no shame. We went to a restaurant the other day to get the traditional rice with sambar and curry off a banana leaf (major nom noms…mmmm). Its an extremely crowded restaurant as people are waiting at your table for you to get up. So Colleen and I are in there, being watched by at least 30 people at one time. Its already awkward to have people watch you eat, but the real awkwardness here is that everyone eats with their hands. To be honest I feel that I'm as good as any Indian eating utensil-less now, but when I have 30 people watching me its like "crap am I doing this right? am I not being Indian enough? is it just because Im six feet and white?" Its a mental process I go thru a lot and its draining. The staring on the street, or curiosity in the stores, "whats your country?" …."obama!!!!" "whats your name?" "where are you staying?", I don't mind anymore. Its when I go to hang up my laundry by the window and the people from the rooftop below start shouting. "Curtain investment" comes to mind. Anyways, this explains why Colleen and I were very excited to experience a peaceful beach morning and were less than thrilled to find it less than peaceful. There we go making assumptions. Rule #1 Never assume anything. I did go exploring in some tropical brush, and sat atop a large cliff to stare at the ocean and listen to the waves; so that was an escape enough for me….nevermind the 6 dudes staring and pointing…. I just pretended they weren't there.
I have never had a problem as a child finding a doll that looked like me, finding a band aid that matched my skin, or now, make-up that blends with my complexion. All these would be indicators of whether you were a minority. In social work at JMU, we endlessly explored cultural diversity, competence, and sensitivity. I remember a theory--the name escapes me--on minority identity formation. The individual is first oblivious to differences of color, they indirectly experience discrimination (or form of feeling different), then directly experience it, they recoil to the minority group (with anger towards the majority), and eventually mingle with everyone with the understanding of differences. I don't think anyone can truly understand this theory unless he experiences it. For the first time in my life I feel a struggle, frustration, an exhaustion of being a minority. I second guess my actions because I know I am being watched. Others' perceptions of me suddenly matter. Sometimes I don't want to walk on the beach solely because I know it will be so mentally draining simply to exist there. Its almost like I have the weight of representing America on my shoulders, and anything I do can and will be used for or against the perception of my country. What confuses me is the fact that Ive never felt so out of place in Nicaragua. I feel comfortable there…like I belong. I told Colleen that maybe that truly is a place where my heart is, or that I lived there in another life or something. Regardless, in India I have been given a severe shove out of my comfort zone (not good or bad)…and its given me a lot to process.
I am not sure if you guys notice any difference in my writing, as Colleen and I notice that our English is changing. Not good. Like I said in a previous post, there is frequent usage of "ing" verb form, lots of plurals on nouns that don't need it, and saying things like "is it?" or "like that" in random context. This is terrifying. As English teachers we must take a stand!!!! We must keep our American English and not succumb to the overuse of the gerund form. We try to catch ourselves but there may be no turning back. I was given the school newsletter the other day to correct and a common sentence structure would go like this, "Responsibility, respect, fairness, caring , trustworthiness, and citizenship are lifetime values which live taught through activities and there are the principles of good sportsmanship." This is the English spoken here, and why Colleen and I often have a hard time communicating and understanding what the heck is going on. Another thing we've noticed is the mix up between "w" and "v"…. we are starting a revolution with the youngsters during tutoring and having them chant "very well" correctly. Everyone pronounces it "wery ell." This revolution will work…start with the young ones and work your way up. :-) …."you vant wegetables?"
By some twist of fate, I have been placed next to a beach here in Kannur. I went there for the first time on Friday for a field trip with the Montessori kids, and then again on Sunday morning for a walk. Its like the beach in Nicaragua! You walk through the lush greenery, coconut trees and all, to the wide beach enclosed with cliffs. If you close your eyes, the humid air is thick on the skin, the sunlight bakes, the waves crash in sets atop the rocks. I wriggle my toes into the steaming sand, churning up the cooler, black layers. On Sunday I was hoping to do this while collecting seashells---cheesy I know but I'm a seashell kid. Anyways, Colleen and I arrived at the beach at 8 am on Sunday morning and it was completely packed…men only. Now you guys may be like jeez suck it up and just go for a run like you planned. The thing is, it is EXHAUSTING being the minority sometimes. This is difficult for me to explain, but bear with me. Here, meaning India, the women stare as much as the men, who stare as much as the children, who stare as much as everyone. I am under a microscope constantly…. they are watching, judging, watching, judging (haha thats actually a shout out for Katherine Courage)…but anyways… people here are very curious and therefore stare with no shame. We went to a restaurant the other day to get the traditional rice with sambar and curry off a banana leaf (major nom noms…mmmm). Its an extremely crowded restaurant as people are waiting at your table for you to get up. So Colleen and I are in there, being watched by at least 30 people at one time. Its already awkward to have people watch you eat, but the real awkwardness here is that everyone eats with their hands. To be honest I feel that I'm as good as any Indian eating utensil-less now, but when I have 30 people watching me its like "crap am I doing this right? am I not being Indian enough? is it just because Im six feet and white?" Its a mental process I go thru a lot and its draining. The staring on the street, or curiosity in the stores, "whats your country?" …."obama!!!!" "whats your name?" "where are you staying?", I don't mind anymore. Its when I go to hang up my laundry by the window and the people from the rooftop below start shouting. "Curtain investment" comes to mind. Anyways, this explains why Colleen and I were very excited to experience a peaceful beach morning and were less than thrilled to find it less than peaceful. There we go making assumptions. Rule #1 Never assume anything. I did go exploring in some tropical brush, and sat atop a large cliff to stare at the ocean and listen to the waves; so that was an escape enough for me….nevermind the 6 dudes staring and pointing…. I just pretended they weren't there.
I have never had a problem as a child finding a doll that looked like me, finding a band aid that matched my skin, or now, make-up that blends with my complexion. All these would be indicators of whether you were a minority. In social work at JMU, we endlessly explored cultural diversity, competence, and sensitivity. I remember a theory--the name escapes me--on minority identity formation. The individual is first oblivious to differences of color, they indirectly experience discrimination (or form of feeling different), then directly experience it, they recoil to the minority group (with anger towards the majority), and eventually mingle with everyone with the understanding of differences. I don't think anyone can truly understand this theory unless he experiences it. For the first time in my life I feel a struggle, frustration, an exhaustion of being a minority. I second guess my actions because I know I am being watched. Others' perceptions of me suddenly matter. Sometimes I don't want to walk on the beach solely because I know it will be so mentally draining simply to exist there. Its almost like I have the weight of representing America on my shoulders, and anything I do can and will be used for or against the perception of my country. What confuses me is the fact that Ive never felt so out of place in Nicaragua. I feel comfortable there…like I belong. I told Colleen that maybe that truly is a place where my heart is, or that I lived there in another life or something. Regardless, in India I have been given a severe shove out of my comfort zone (not good or bad)…and its given me a lot to process.
I am not sure if you guys notice any difference in my writing, as Colleen and I notice that our English is changing. Not good. Like I said in a previous post, there is frequent usage of "ing" verb form, lots of plurals on nouns that don't need it, and saying things like "is it?" or "like that" in random context. This is terrifying. As English teachers we must take a stand!!!! We must keep our American English and not succumb to the overuse of the gerund form. We try to catch ourselves but there may be no turning back. I was given the school newsletter the other day to correct and a common sentence structure would go like this, "Responsibility, respect, fairness, caring , trustworthiness, and citizenship are lifetime values which live taught through activities and there are the principles of good sportsmanship." This is the English spoken here, and why Colleen and I often have a hard time communicating and understanding what the heck is going on. Another thing we've noticed is the mix up between "w" and "v"…. we are starting a revolution with the youngsters during tutoring and having them chant "very well" correctly. Everyone pronounces it "wery ell." This revolution will work…start with the young ones and work your way up. :-) …."you vant wegetables?"
Monday, October 11, 2010
"What scare of you?"
Monday, October 11
6:30 am
It will be common that I go a whole week without blogging now. Between classes, lesson planning, learning Malayalam, tutoring, company, and playtime, Colleen and I are normally so pooped that we eat some dinner and pass out with Malayalam characters swirling about in our heads. Colleen helped some dude with a film project on Indian Americans when she was in college, and researched how many of them celebrated Indian culture, and how they felt after immigrating America. One common thread among them was that they all felt like there was too much space in America, that it was lonely and very open. I can completely grasp how an Indian immigrant would feel that way in America. Here, homes normally have several generations and branches of families living there. A fellow teacher, Asiya, lives with her husband, his brothers and wives, all their children, and the parent in-laws. People are constantly in everyones business, coming over to say hello, tea here, coffee there, personal questions asked non-stop. (My personal favorite from 11 year-old Malu, "how many rupees you get for one month at RIMS?") Colleen and I have a posse that is typically coloring, singing, and dancing at our flat. They pamper us with cards saying "Im proud of you" and "Colleen and Summer mam" colored about the pages. We originally were tutoring Aysha last week, and now Malu and Thamana want to be tutored too. I feel like we'll have an overhead projector in our flat by the time we leave! At RIMS, Colleen and I will teach a few classes a day, and then go to a montessori class to sing songs, tell stories, and interact with the children. I taught them "Singing in the rain" (a ridiculous version that I remember from my third grade teacher. Ill have to tell her it came in handy) and "Little Goldie Goldfish," a song my mother and aunts sang together as children. Between classes I am teaching the teachers Spanish (baha oh yeahhhh!) and trying to learn Malayalam…oh and lesson planning. There is one computer with internet for the teachers at the school (administration has some, but we cant use those), so access is limited. (I ordered a broadband internet USB thing and will have it within the next week….so Ill be online more frequently and will be able to Skype!!!) Once Colleen and I get home, within minutes theres a doorbell ring and all the flat kids are skipping about asking for us to come out and play or to come in and color with us. They will leave at about 8 pm, we eat dinner and pass out. PHEW! It is a lot of fun though because the little girls always love to sing and dance, so its not uncommon for us to whip out some Lady Gaga, Spice Girls, N'sync, and lets not forget… TECHNO!!!
Power outages at school are common. I also discovered last week that if I press PRINT on one computer, and someone else is already printing something, then the printer will completely ditch that printing job and begin to print my papers. I was unaware that this happens so one teachers double sided worksheets ended up with a math test page on the backs because, silly me, I didn't know the printer was so fickle with print jobs. Its like the teachers at the school. Whenever you are talking to someone, you will be interrupted or distracted by someone else; thus, providing constant chaos and never really finishing conversations. I'm totally fine with this except I want to understand how the heck this trait rubbed off to the computers and printer…."computers are smarter than countries!!!!!" i shouted at colleen on the walk home that day. Oy veh.
I could eat some of my students with a spoon. Ah they are so cute! They are so quiet when I try to get them to speak English in class!! These kids can be loud, I've heard them screaming and yelling in my class, attempting everything in the book to get them to settle down. But, once we start doing a dialogue on "What scares you?" they recoil and whisper "sppspsssspsspsssssssppp" …."Class, could you hear Amin?" "Nooooooooooo." "Amin, could you please speak up?" "spspspspppsssssss" Ten minutes ago this kid was running all over the place screaming. I know you have it in you kids, C'MON! When I ask for a volunteer, the hands shoot up and I hear a roaring clash of voices "Summer maam! MAAAAM! MAAM! MAAM! MAAAAAAAM!!!!!!!" Colleen and I have resorted to the numbered sheets of paper system. Every kid gets a number and we call out a number 1-23, and that student is the 'volunteer'. This works sometimes except that a lot of the kids are screaming and running up to me in class "ma'am my number is 13" "summer ma'am!!! 22! Im 22!" They may also write the number on the back of the sheet of paper i gave them and sprint to the front of the class screaming "14! Im 14!" No your not because I didn't write in a purple marker on the back of a chit of paper that says 8. Anyways, I clearly have a lot to learn about class control, and hopefully the novelty of "foreign ma'am" will wear off eventually and they'll settle down. Its so worth it though when Im outside of class and someone will walk up and say "Summer ma'am, what scares you?" This is quite a feat as most of them will say "what scare of you?" No matter how many times I remodel and write this on the board, they still will say it like that. So when Sara walks up with her toothless smile and says it correctly, I get very excited that I did something right.
Between classes I'll have little girls ask to touch my hair, poke my face, squeeze my cheeks, etc. One of my favorites, Fathima Hanan, always had a ginormous, toothy, smile, with magnified brown eyes twinkling behind her glasses. "Good morning Summer ma'am!" she'll always say. After she poked my face and touched my hair one day, she just scampered off giggling. I have funny hair I suppose. Another girl in my fifth standard, Ridha, brought Colleen and I chocolate one day. Talk about becoming a favorite!!! Haha, I love this girl!! Actually at the end of one of my classes with her, everyone is packing up and Ridha asks, "would ma'am teach us some Spanish?" Oh my gosh I think I melted into the floor, I have and Indian child asking me to teach her Spanish. Its agreed that the last few minutes of class I'll give the girls a tiny Spanish lesson :-) There are only 4 girls in the class so it is absolutely wonderful! Last week we did haikus and proverbs. The girls were able to get the concept of syllables and write their own haikus, and we went over proverbs like "don't cry over spilt milk" and "the grass is always greener…" and their homework is to write a few sentences about a proverb they like and why. Their level of English is clearly higher, as they can communicate easily. The main issue is pronunciation and grammar. "I have a nice two pets" was a sentence in my 5th standard last week.
I have to mention something a student said in Colleen's third standard last week. First, let me explain that whenever Colleen and I mention that we are from USA, the majority of people will say "Obama!!!" Everyone knows about Obama. So, last week in Colleen's class, she explained to the kids that she was from America. She asked, "does anyone know who the president of the United States of America is?" ….ya know, expecting to get a class response of "OBAMA!!" BAHHAHAHA no. One kid shouts, "BUSH! BUSH KILL IRAQ!" Hahahaaha, talk about an awkward collar tugger there…."hmmmmmmk , yes. Bush was the president….does anyone know the president now??" Hehe.
This week the students all have exams, so hopefully Colleen and Summer ma'am will have some more time to figure out some lesson plans and class control techniques. I have plenty more to catch up on, but I must get ready for class now! Oh, and Colleen literally just smashed a (at least two inches long) cockroach with her sneaker and showed it to me. Hmm, nifty.
Pinne kanam.
6:30 am
It will be common that I go a whole week without blogging now. Between classes, lesson planning, learning Malayalam, tutoring, company, and playtime, Colleen and I are normally so pooped that we eat some dinner and pass out with Malayalam characters swirling about in our heads. Colleen helped some dude with a film project on Indian Americans when she was in college, and researched how many of them celebrated Indian culture, and how they felt after immigrating America. One common thread among them was that they all felt like there was too much space in America, that it was lonely and very open. I can completely grasp how an Indian immigrant would feel that way in America. Here, homes normally have several generations and branches of families living there. A fellow teacher, Asiya, lives with her husband, his brothers and wives, all their children, and the parent in-laws. People are constantly in everyones business, coming over to say hello, tea here, coffee there, personal questions asked non-stop. (My personal favorite from 11 year-old Malu, "how many rupees you get for one month at RIMS?") Colleen and I have a posse that is typically coloring, singing, and dancing at our flat. They pamper us with cards saying "Im proud of you" and "Colleen and Summer mam" colored about the pages. We originally were tutoring Aysha last week, and now Malu and Thamana want to be tutored too. I feel like we'll have an overhead projector in our flat by the time we leave! At RIMS, Colleen and I will teach a few classes a day, and then go to a montessori class to sing songs, tell stories, and interact with the children. I taught them "Singing in the rain" (a ridiculous version that I remember from my third grade teacher. Ill have to tell her it came in handy) and "Little Goldie Goldfish," a song my mother and aunts sang together as children. Between classes I am teaching the teachers Spanish (baha oh yeahhhh!) and trying to learn Malayalam…oh and lesson planning. There is one computer with internet for the teachers at the school (administration has some, but we cant use those), so access is limited. (I ordered a broadband internet USB thing and will have it within the next week….so Ill be online more frequently and will be able to Skype!!!) Once Colleen and I get home, within minutes theres a doorbell ring and all the flat kids are skipping about asking for us to come out and play or to come in and color with us. They will leave at about 8 pm, we eat dinner and pass out. PHEW! It is a lot of fun though because the little girls always love to sing and dance, so its not uncommon for us to whip out some Lady Gaga, Spice Girls, N'sync, and lets not forget… TECHNO!!!
Power outages at school are common. I also discovered last week that if I press PRINT on one computer, and someone else is already printing something, then the printer will completely ditch that printing job and begin to print my papers. I was unaware that this happens so one teachers double sided worksheets ended up with a math test page on the backs because, silly me, I didn't know the printer was so fickle with print jobs. Its like the teachers at the school. Whenever you are talking to someone, you will be interrupted or distracted by someone else; thus, providing constant chaos and never really finishing conversations. I'm totally fine with this except I want to understand how the heck this trait rubbed off to the computers and printer…."computers are smarter than countries!!!!!" i shouted at colleen on the walk home that day. Oy veh.
I could eat some of my students with a spoon. Ah they are so cute! They are so quiet when I try to get them to speak English in class!! These kids can be loud, I've heard them screaming and yelling in my class, attempting everything in the book to get them to settle down. But, once we start doing a dialogue on "What scares you?" they recoil and whisper "sppspsssspsspsssssssppp" …."Class, could you hear Amin?" "Nooooooooooo." "Amin, could you please speak up?" "spspspspppsssssss" Ten minutes ago this kid was running all over the place screaming. I know you have it in you kids, C'MON! When I ask for a volunteer, the hands shoot up and I hear a roaring clash of voices "Summer maam! MAAAAM! MAAM! MAAM! MAAAAAAAM!!!!!!!" Colleen and I have resorted to the numbered sheets of paper system. Every kid gets a number and we call out a number 1-23, and that student is the 'volunteer'. This works sometimes except that a lot of the kids are screaming and running up to me in class "ma'am my number is 13" "summer ma'am!!! 22! Im 22!" They may also write the number on the back of the sheet of paper i gave them and sprint to the front of the class screaming "14! Im 14!" No your not because I didn't write in a purple marker on the back of a chit of paper that says 8. Anyways, I clearly have a lot to learn about class control, and hopefully the novelty of "foreign ma'am" will wear off eventually and they'll settle down. Its so worth it though when Im outside of class and someone will walk up and say "Summer ma'am, what scares you?" This is quite a feat as most of them will say "what scare of you?" No matter how many times I remodel and write this on the board, they still will say it like that. So when Sara walks up with her toothless smile and says it correctly, I get very excited that I did something right.
Between classes I'll have little girls ask to touch my hair, poke my face, squeeze my cheeks, etc. One of my favorites, Fathima Hanan, always had a ginormous, toothy, smile, with magnified brown eyes twinkling behind her glasses. "Good morning Summer ma'am!" she'll always say. After she poked my face and touched my hair one day, she just scampered off giggling. I have funny hair I suppose. Another girl in my fifth standard, Ridha, brought Colleen and I chocolate one day. Talk about becoming a favorite!!! Haha, I love this girl!! Actually at the end of one of my classes with her, everyone is packing up and Ridha asks, "would ma'am teach us some Spanish?" Oh my gosh I think I melted into the floor, I have and Indian child asking me to teach her Spanish. Its agreed that the last few minutes of class I'll give the girls a tiny Spanish lesson :-) There are only 4 girls in the class so it is absolutely wonderful! Last week we did haikus and proverbs. The girls were able to get the concept of syllables and write their own haikus, and we went over proverbs like "don't cry over spilt milk" and "the grass is always greener…" and their homework is to write a few sentences about a proverb they like and why. Their level of English is clearly higher, as they can communicate easily. The main issue is pronunciation and grammar. "I have a nice two pets" was a sentence in my 5th standard last week.
I have to mention something a student said in Colleen's third standard last week. First, let me explain that whenever Colleen and I mention that we are from USA, the majority of people will say "Obama!!!" Everyone knows about Obama. So, last week in Colleen's class, she explained to the kids that she was from America. She asked, "does anyone know who the president of the United States of America is?" ….ya know, expecting to get a class response of "OBAMA!!" BAHHAHAHA no. One kid shouts, "BUSH! BUSH KILL IRAQ!" Hahahaaha, talk about an awkward collar tugger there…."hmmmmmmk , yes. Bush was the president….does anyone know the president now??" Hehe.
This week the students all have exams, so hopefully Colleen and Summer ma'am will have some more time to figure out some lesson plans and class control techniques. I have plenty more to catch up on, but I must get ready for class now! Oh, and Colleen literally just smashed a (at least two inches long) cockroach with her sneaker and showed it to me. Hmm, nifty.
Pinne kanam.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Eniku Malayalam ishtamaanu
Wednesday, October 6
7:30 am
The great thing about living in a flat in a 6 story building is all the little friends we get to meet! Word has leaked out to some youngsters that there are two white women in the building. Now it is not uncommon for us to look out the windows and have children frantically waving back at us, ear to ear smiles pleading for us to come out and play. One evening we spent quite a bit of time with two 12 year-olds, Thamana and Malu, singing and dancing. Malu showed us classical Indian dance that she learned in dance class (this girl is so good!) and then both showed us a dance normally performed at a wedding. The girls also sang India's national anthem, and a couple other catchy Hindi tunes. I guess I should have seen it coming, because after their singing they instantly demanded that Colleen and I sing. BAHAH. For those of you who know me, you are aware that my strengths lye outside the musical arena…Colleen agrees for herself in the singing aspect (she did play the flute and piano, but clearly we did not have either of these instruments with us). Regardless, we proudly belt out the Star Spangled Banner (seriously, what is the pitch range in that song!?) Malu and Thamana sat wide-eyed and attentive. When we finished they both seemed impressed so I felt better about the whole thing. Malu then asked, "are you famous singers in America?" so seriously, intent and anxious to hear the answer. Oh my goodness I want to put her in my back pocket and carry her around! Don't worry I told her the truth, and gave her an autographed demo CD. The rest of the evening was devoted to dancing to Shakira and Spice Girls (they loved them!), and we taught them the Macarena. Malu made a request at one point for some "fast music, to dance??? uh… bom bom bom!"…I say, "techno?"…she replies "YES YES!! you have techno?" Oh dear Indian child, do I have techno…. I unveiled the techno, house, and dance music sections in my itunes library, a selection that could leave you bouncing up and down for hours. Us four only bounced around for about a half hour but the fact that an Indian child asked me for techno music pretty much just made my life. I have been scolded by college roommates that I make CDS with too much techno, or by car passengers forced to listen to my ipod. I truly have come to paradise!
There are two more little girls who live directly above Colleen and I, and they attend RIMS. Aysha is in 3rd standard and her mother has asked if we would like to tutor her on some weekdays. Of course! Aysha will mosey down to our apartment each Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday with a backpack full o' books. When helping her with Math, I had flashbacks to when my mom would help me with homework…. giving countless examples of word problems, or drawing diagrams to explain how many pairs of shoes Nidha can make out of this number….etc. This time I was my mother. I was giving the examples, doodling division pictures in her notebook, asking how many more tigers than bears India has. Its really cool to see the wheels turning inside her head, and watching as she writes down the correct answer. Thanks for setting a good example mom :-) Aysha also wrote a haiku! I explained syllables to her (this will be a great lesson for some of the kids, too!) and we circled the syllables in different sentences. She got it and wrote her very own haiku! Here it is:
It is a tiger
The dress has seven buttons
It is a spider.
So cute!! I was proud of her.
I want to explain this English business. I said before that most of the teachers at school DO speak English. Others speak some, but don't really understand when Colleen and I speak. This is similar with the little girls Malu and Thamana, they understand us for the most part, but there is a lot of repeating and saying "huh?" on both ends of the conversation. Indian English is the current form of English spoken in India. India has the largest number of English speakers in the world. However, the Indian English spoken has a thick accent influenced by both British English and native languages. The grammar differs as well. Certain word plurals will be given an 's': maths, furnitures… and they always say "isn't it?" at the end of random statements: He is a nice person, isn't it? I'll be back later, isn't it?" Or they say things like "how is it?" in random context or "what you want?" Anyways, the kids at the school can understand their teachers' English (which Colleen and I can barely understand), and they have a hard time understanding the American accent. They can communicate what they need to; however, it is very evident that Colleen and I will need to work a lot on pronunciation and grammar. My II standard class yesterday had a very difficult time with my "What scares you?" lesson. They keep saying "what scared of you?"
Nyaan our inglish teechar aanu. I am and English teacher. Malayalam (the local language spoken in Kerala) is such a beautiful language that flows and rolls about of the tongue and on paper. However, it is really stinkin' hard to learn. I have every intention of becoming fluent in this language so I am studying as much as possible. I am trying to find a English-Malayalam dictionary; however I can only find a Malayalam-English dictionary---the words are all written in the loopdy loos, so I cant really use that dictionary :(. I don't even know if one exists because I doubt there is high demand for English speakers to learn Malayalam. Right now I have a small phrase book (and a whole school of Malayalam speakers) to learn from. So that will have to do for now. There are so many sounds that I've never heard or uttered before in my life, so I'm rrr-ing, and gkn-ing, and zha-ing, about in my room to practice as much as possible. Welp its time for school! Pinne kanaam! (see ya later)
7:30 am
The great thing about living in a flat in a 6 story building is all the little friends we get to meet! Word has leaked out to some youngsters that there are two white women in the building. Now it is not uncommon for us to look out the windows and have children frantically waving back at us, ear to ear smiles pleading for us to come out and play. One evening we spent quite a bit of time with two 12 year-olds, Thamana and Malu, singing and dancing. Malu showed us classical Indian dance that she learned in dance class (this girl is so good!) and then both showed us a dance normally performed at a wedding. The girls also sang India's national anthem, and a couple other catchy Hindi tunes. I guess I should have seen it coming, because after their singing they instantly demanded that Colleen and I sing. BAHAH. For those of you who know me, you are aware that my strengths lye outside the musical arena…Colleen agrees for herself in the singing aspect (she did play the flute and piano, but clearly we did not have either of these instruments with us). Regardless, we proudly belt out the Star Spangled Banner (seriously, what is the pitch range in that song!?) Malu and Thamana sat wide-eyed and attentive. When we finished they both seemed impressed so I felt better about the whole thing. Malu then asked, "are you famous singers in America?" so seriously, intent and anxious to hear the answer. Oh my goodness I want to put her in my back pocket and carry her around! Don't worry I told her the truth, and gave her an autographed demo CD. The rest of the evening was devoted to dancing to Shakira and Spice Girls (they loved them!), and we taught them the Macarena. Malu made a request at one point for some "fast music, to dance??? uh… bom bom bom!"…I say, "techno?"…she replies "YES YES!! you have techno?" Oh dear Indian child, do I have techno…. I unveiled the techno, house, and dance music sections in my itunes library, a selection that could leave you bouncing up and down for hours. Us four only bounced around for about a half hour but the fact that an Indian child asked me for techno music pretty much just made my life. I have been scolded by college roommates that I make CDS with too much techno, or by car passengers forced to listen to my ipod. I truly have come to paradise!
There are two more little girls who live directly above Colleen and I, and they attend RIMS. Aysha is in 3rd standard and her mother has asked if we would like to tutor her on some weekdays. Of course! Aysha will mosey down to our apartment each Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday with a backpack full o' books. When helping her with Math, I had flashbacks to when my mom would help me with homework…. giving countless examples of word problems, or drawing diagrams to explain how many pairs of shoes Nidha can make out of this number….etc. This time I was my mother. I was giving the examples, doodling division pictures in her notebook, asking how many more tigers than bears India has. Its really cool to see the wheels turning inside her head, and watching as she writes down the correct answer. Thanks for setting a good example mom :-) Aysha also wrote a haiku! I explained syllables to her (this will be a great lesson for some of the kids, too!) and we circled the syllables in different sentences. She got it and wrote her very own haiku! Here it is:
It is a tiger
The dress has seven buttons
It is a spider.
So cute!! I was proud of her.
I want to explain this English business. I said before that most of the teachers at school DO speak English. Others speak some, but don't really understand when Colleen and I speak. This is similar with the little girls Malu and Thamana, they understand us for the most part, but there is a lot of repeating and saying "huh?" on both ends of the conversation. Indian English is the current form of English spoken in India. India has the largest number of English speakers in the world. However, the Indian English spoken has a thick accent influenced by both British English and native languages. The grammar differs as well. Certain word plurals will be given an 's': maths, furnitures… and they always say "isn't it?" at the end of random statements: He is a nice person, isn't it? I'll be back later, isn't it?" Or they say things like "how is it?" in random context or "what you want?" Anyways, the kids at the school can understand their teachers' English (which Colleen and I can barely understand), and they have a hard time understanding the American accent. They can communicate what they need to; however, it is very evident that Colleen and I will need to work a lot on pronunciation and grammar. My II standard class yesterday had a very difficult time with my "What scares you?" lesson. They keep saying "what scared of you?"
Nyaan our inglish teechar aanu. I am and English teacher. Malayalam (the local language spoken in Kerala) is such a beautiful language that flows and rolls about of the tongue and on paper. However, it is really stinkin' hard to learn. I have every intention of becoming fluent in this language so I am studying as much as possible. I am trying to find a English-Malayalam dictionary; however I can only find a Malayalam-English dictionary---the words are all written in the loopdy loos, so I cant really use that dictionary :(. I don't even know if one exists because I doubt there is high demand for English speakers to learn Malayalam. Right now I have a small phrase book (and a whole school of Malayalam speakers) to learn from. So that will have to do for now. There are so many sounds that I've never heard or uttered before in my life, so I'm rrr-ing, and gkn-ing, and zha-ing, about in my room to practice as much as possible. Welp its time for school! Pinne kanaam! (see ya later)
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Fashion Flashbacks
I would now like to discuss the task of clothes shopping for a 5'11, average built, full-figured female individual as myself. I am having flashbacks to specific traumatic incidents in Calcutta (as history is repeating itself here in Kannur). I am a very large human compared to the common population (men and women) of India. Therefore, the Large size here is more like a small American medium. Many vendors like to tell me "don't worry I have big size for you!" I've accepted this but I got to a point in shopping in Calcutta where I would reply to the Kelly Tucker** size garment displayed before me, "thats definitely not big size" and they would say "iz ok it stretch for you!" In addition to the general size difference, I have concluded that Indian women have ridiculously thin arms and not very broad shoulders. I have gotten stuck in a number of shirts this way in order to come to this conclusion…therefore it is valid. Flashback: I'm at South City Mall (which is very nice and very westernized) in a giant store which could constitute as the equivalent to a Macy's. I am in line for the dressing room to try on a dress. There are about 15 women (ages 15-40 we'll say) in line for the dressing room, all of whom keep staring at me shamelessly. I look in the large communal mirror to sneak peeks at the others (because I don't like staring!!) and see that I am a good 7 inches to a foot taller than everyone around me. I also notice that everyone in this line is wearing some western trendy jeans and shirt combo…….except me. Oh no, I definitely decided that morning that I was going to wear my Indian gear; thus, clothing myself in the long kurti shirt, with the slouchy cotton churidar pants. So, theres about 15 western-dressed Indian women around the obscenely tall, blonde, pale American dressed like an Indian. This is my story setting. I proceed to the dressing room with my one garment, adorable Dress size L, (there was hope that this would fit) and slip it on. Well looks like a perfect fi-- holy crap my arm circulation! ahhhhhh, **struggle, struggle**..:::twist::..:::swish:::…:::pffffffzzt:::… 'omg am I going to rip this?!'…. everything but the arm holes/shoulders fit and so I have found myself panicked and flailing about within the dressing room, freaking out that I will A. most certainly rip the dress or B. lose my upper limbs to the unfortunate asphyxiation of my arms. Ya know how they tell you when a boa constrictor is strangling you that thrashing around will only make it squeeze even tighter? What a handy little principle I elected NOT to try during this dilemma. With each twitching shimmy, the tight mini cap sleeves finagle up to the tops of my shoulders and and I start assessing the fact that I very well may need help to get this dress off me. Ugh, and I know the all the other tiny-armed-in-western-gear-women are all wondering what the heck happened to that random Indian poser white girl with ONE item of clothing 15 minutes ago. I know you want the story to get better, but I somehow managed to wriggle free from the death grip of those dang cap sleeves--dress unharmed--- and emerge from the room sweating, beat red face, and giant red bands around my upper arms and shoulders (did I mention that my kurti was sleeveless?), oh, and stripped of all dignity. I find Phil Collins in the store and they are like "dude where were you?!"…."oh i got stuck in a dress, no big."
I frequently experience a slightly less intense version of this scenario. Oy veh. Maybe I should stop doing so many handstands……?……..nah. :-)
**good friend, very small
I frequently experience a slightly less intense version of this scenario. Oy veh. Maybe I should stop doing so many handstands……?……..nah. :-)
**good friend, very small
Real Innovative Montessori Society
The RIMS school was established a year ago and has about 200 students from ages 2 1/2 to 13. The teachers speak English (though it is difficult to understand some, and others' is very broken). There are classes taught in English and Malayalam (local language that is known as one of the most difficult to learn in India) and the students also receive Hindi and Arabic classes. Management is Muslim, and most of the students are Muslim; however, there are Hindu teachers and students as well. I was told a couple students are Christian but I have not met them yet. All around, it is a very welcoming and peaceful atmosphere. The environment as a whole is very enriching, as Anis Sir expressed that they are trying to provide a space where not only IQ is important, but also EQ (emotional quotient), SQ (spiritual quotient), PQ (physical quotient), etc. (They have yoga classes and will soon have horseback ridding!) He has told me so many times that he is thrilled that Colleen and I are here to contribute our knowledge and culture, and hopes that we can all exchange different ideas, and learn from one another. He is a genuine individual and a great fit as the school's principal as it is evident that he cares so much for the students and well-being of the school. I must admit, that he is a bit intimidating as he is one of the larger (6'3 I'd say) Indian men I've met, and he dresses in the all white with a little cap Muslim get up (thanks American perception). All I can say is that I have already had amazing conversations with some teachers, and I am looking forward to working in this peaceful environment, and learning as much as possible about the school, people, religions, and culture.
On Thursday, school had to leave early because at 3:30 there was a huge court case that was going to decide whether a building was a Muslim Mosque or a Hindu Temple. Apparently for years it had been a mosque, then it was used as a temple… and now there has been fighting between the two religions as to who the holy building belongs to. At RIMS, teachers were bustling about and hurrying all the children home. The only thing they cared about was making sure the children were safe, and didn't care less about the verdict of the case. I asked several teachers (Hindu and Muslim) about the situation and they kept saying "who cares if its a mosque or a temple? we just want it to be peaceful here." Depending on the decision of the court, one religious group could get feisty and the possibility of a strike was imminent, this is why the school was let out early. It turns out, the court decided the holy place would officially serve as both a mosque and temple. I guess the official decision is what mattered. Anyways, my point is that the management of the school didn't give a rats behind about the determination of religion within some building, but the safety and well being of the students and teachers.
Let me explain the layout of classes. There are three montessori classes: M1= 2 1/2 - 3 1/2, M2= 3 1/2 - 4 1/2, M3= 4 1/2 - 5 1/2. I was not incredibly familiar with this method of teaching before arriving here, I had just heard of it. The smaller children arrive to their environments and begin work on their own. Each child rolls out his own mat and retrieves an activity to complete. For the younger kids the activities involve a lot of buttons, zippers, and tying strings. There are other 'everyday life' activities--example: a child will get the tea set, fill the pitcher with water, and go to his/her station and use to pitcher to fill the small cups with water to the marked dotted line on the inside of the cup. There are also a lot of puzzles to identify objects and animals, and lots of number forms to facilitate counting. I was blown away in visiting each of these environments as these kids are taking out pictures of planes, brushes, ships, etc….and then using foam letters to spell out these things on their mats….and these kids are less than 5!!!! Before they enter into I standard (1st grade) they will already be able to read and write, count, add, subtract, and multiply. This blows my mind as I remember learning multiplication in 3rd grade, and reading my first (longer than 3 pages book) (Go, Dog, Go) completely by myself in 1st grade. This montessori stuff is legit and I'm excited to learn more about it.
After montessori classes there is I standard to VI standard….. standard = grade…. I have been given I standard-B, II Standard, and V Standard classes to teach English. I am expected to ensure that the students develop proper pronunciation and grammar, as well as communicate effectively with English speakers worldwide. (right now I have my work cut out for me as pretty much everyone here has a difficult time understanding the American accent…the kids just kind of stare at me with a big '?' dangling over their heads). I am also going to facilitate co-curricular activities--outdoor sports and crafts, etc. The kids all keep asking when I get to teach their English class or when I will teach them volleyball :-)
Might I just add how precious all of these kids are… I've already found some 'favorites.' They all come to school in their camel colored uniforms---little girls in frilly tan striped dresses that tie in the back---little boys in khaki pants with a collared white shirt that's stained within the first 30 minutes of school. Each morning they begin an assembly with a prayer and then salute India with their arms out straight as they sing the national anthem in high pitched, adorably out of tune voices. The assembly is then followed with Kerala News and Interesting Facts, orated by one of the older girls. I am officially "Summer ma'am."
RIMS is under construction right now so the current building is actually an old house. Next to it they are building a two story building which should be finished and ready to move into within a month (or so they say….it looks like longer to me but ya know… just roll with it). The real project--which is what you'll see if you visit the website--is under construction some kilometers away, and is expected to be finished within the next 2 years. Each passing year, they hope to add another standard to the school….next year they will have VII standard, the next VIII, etc. Anis Sir has already offered Colleen and I a job after our three month internship….hmmmmmmm ;-) ….until then I gotta start lesson planning for my first classes!!!
On Thursday, school had to leave early because at 3:30 there was a huge court case that was going to decide whether a building was a Muslim Mosque or a Hindu Temple. Apparently for years it had been a mosque, then it was used as a temple… and now there has been fighting between the two religions as to who the holy building belongs to. At RIMS, teachers were bustling about and hurrying all the children home. The only thing they cared about was making sure the children were safe, and didn't care less about the verdict of the case. I asked several teachers (Hindu and Muslim) about the situation and they kept saying "who cares if its a mosque or a temple? we just want it to be peaceful here." Depending on the decision of the court, one religious group could get feisty and the possibility of a strike was imminent, this is why the school was let out early. It turns out, the court decided the holy place would officially serve as both a mosque and temple. I guess the official decision is what mattered. Anyways, my point is that the management of the school didn't give a rats behind about the determination of religion within some building, but the safety and well being of the students and teachers.
Let me explain the layout of classes. There are three montessori classes: M1= 2 1/2 - 3 1/2, M2= 3 1/2 - 4 1/2, M3= 4 1/2 - 5 1/2. I was not incredibly familiar with this method of teaching before arriving here, I had just heard of it. The smaller children arrive to their environments and begin work on their own. Each child rolls out his own mat and retrieves an activity to complete. For the younger kids the activities involve a lot of buttons, zippers, and tying strings. There are other 'everyday life' activities--example: a child will get the tea set, fill the pitcher with water, and go to his/her station and use to pitcher to fill the small cups with water to the marked dotted line on the inside of the cup. There are also a lot of puzzles to identify objects and animals, and lots of number forms to facilitate counting. I was blown away in visiting each of these environments as these kids are taking out pictures of planes, brushes, ships, etc….and then using foam letters to spell out these things on their mats….and these kids are less than 5!!!! Before they enter into I standard (1st grade) they will already be able to read and write, count, add, subtract, and multiply. This blows my mind as I remember learning multiplication in 3rd grade, and reading my first (longer than 3 pages book) (Go, Dog, Go) completely by myself in 1st grade. This montessori stuff is legit and I'm excited to learn more about it.
After montessori classes there is I standard to VI standard….. standard = grade…. I have been given I standard-B, II Standard, and V Standard classes to teach English. I am expected to ensure that the students develop proper pronunciation and grammar, as well as communicate effectively with English speakers worldwide. (right now I have my work cut out for me as pretty much everyone here has a difficult time understanding the American accent…the kids just kind of stare at me with a big '?' dangling over their heads). I am also going to facilitate co-curricular activities--outdoor sports and crafts, etc. The kids all keep asking when I get to teach their English class or when I will teach them volleyball :-)
Might I just add how precious all of these kids are… I've already found some 'favorites.' They all come to school in their camel colored uniforms---little girls in frilly tan striped dresses that tie in the back---little boys in khaki pants with a collared white shirt that's stained within the first 30 minutes of school. Each morning they begin an assembly with a prayer and then salute India with their arms out straight as they sing the national anthem in high pitched, adorably out of tune voices. The assembly is then followed with Kerala News and Interesting Facts, orated by one of the older girls. I am officially "Summer ma'am."
RIMS is under construction right now so the current building is actually an old house. Next to it they are building a two story building which should be finished and ready to move into within a month (or so they say….it looks like longer to me but ya know… just roll with it). The real project--which is what you'll see if you visit the website--is under construction some kilometers away, and is expected to be finished within the next 2 years. Each passing year, they hope to add another standard to the school….next year they will have VII standard, the next VIII, etc. Anis Sir has already offered Colleen and I a job after our three month internship….hmmmmmmm ;-) ….until then I gotta start lesson planning for my first classes!!!
Welcome to Paradise
Saturday, Oct 2
7:27 am
Those four smiling faces included Sajid Sir, co-ordinator from other schools, Anis Sir, RIMS school principal, Shilpa, school accountant, and Aaliya, school secretary. This arrival to Kannur, Kerala, India was at 10:30 am on Wednesday, and from then to now, I have never felt so welcomed to anywhere in my life! All of these individuals have gone out of their way to ensure that my stay here is the best they can make it….I was under the impression that I was serving them! Anyways, they take me to my flat (apartment), which is on the fifth floor of a building looking over Kannur. I walk in to this thing and was like omg Ive come to paradise. Shining cream tiled floors, kitchen (bigger than mine at home!) with microwave, four gas burners, and stocked fridge with orange juice, pepsi, and biscuits. Cabinets decorated with coffee fixin's and noodles…. theres a dining table, one big couch, and two cushy one person chairs, two bedrooms--each with their own bathroom, and AC! All windows in the flat provide for a panoramic view including the beach, a soccer field, the market, main road, and very crossable--normal traffic flow(for India)--streets. AND we have a washer!!! NO MORE HANDWASHING CLOTHES WOOOOOOOP! Ok so they instantly feed me some veggie curry and chapati (turn up the spice level from Kolkata by about 5 times) I wolf it down. Every meal I have had for the past couple days is just so full-flavored and spiced to perfection. I'm sipping my morning coffee now as I write this and I'm almost drooling thinking about the next time I get to eat ahhhhh! Haha they keep trying to feed me! Every hour its like…are you hungry? do you need something? I can order for you. Try this! I made it! …. I'm getting off track as usual and you're probably wondering about the people here and not just the food. Everyone is SO friendly and welcoming! I feel like a celebrity! Aaliya and Shilpa took me under their wing as far as showing me the ropes and around the area before Colleen arrived here Friday. Aaliya is an outgoing, bubbly, hilarious, 20-year-old (though she's wise beyond her years) who started speaking my language (and by this I don't mean English) when we arrived to the flat and she instantly busted out some chocolate creme cookies. Shilpa is a sweet, caring, and accommodating 28-year-old woman (though she looks so young!) from Hyderbad. We hung out and chatted all afternoon on Wednesday, and I feel like we are the best of friends now just a couple days later!
I went to visit the school on Wednesday (see next blog for school details). All of the teachers were so sweet and welcoming, all saying "oh you must help me with my English!" "we have been waiting and waiting for you!" "we are so excited to have you!" I was brought into each classroom where all the students would stand up and say "good morning ma'am." Wherever I was at any point I'd hear giggles and turn around to see a bunch of kids following me and whispering… only to scamper away giggling if I said anything. I told one of the teachers that none of the students would ever respond to me! only stare and smile! She said "well you are like a celebrity to them! They only see people that look like you on TV so you might as well be famous!"
Today the school has a program called "Grandparents Day," where all the children's grandparents come to be honored. Sir has asked Colleen and I to give small speeches, as we will also be welcomed to the school during the program. There will also be a Food Fair--all the parents make a dish to bring--and people will purchase tickets to eat items of food. All the proceeds will be donated to a local orphanage to teach the children the importance of giving. (Yes I have every intention of finding this orphanage. Anytime this word is uttered I perk up attentively.)
***Im writing this after grandparents day now. It was precious when each child brought their elders a single rose to honor them. Colleen and I were warmly welcomed and got to sit up front of the audience before we were called to make our speeches. I think my fondest memory of the day was when Colleen and I got to go to the judging room where they picked the best parent-made dish of the day (winner got a prize). We went crazy trying all sorts of typical Keralan/Muslim dishes. It was like a buffet with 30 dishes I've never tasted---rolls, chicken, fish cutlets, rice cake masala something, egg stuff, everything with some spicy kick….all home made!! bakshanam kayichu <---I ate food. (malayalam)
7:27 am
Those four smiling faces included Sajid Sir, co-ordinator from other schools, Anis Sir, RIMS school principal, Shilpa, school accountant, and Aaliya, school secretary. This arrival to Kannur, Kerala, India was at 10:30 am on Wednesday, and from then to now, I have never felt so welcomed to anywhere in my life! All of these individuals have gone out of their way to ensure that my stay here is the best they can make it….I was under the impression that I was serving them! Anyways, they take me to my flat (apartment), which is on the fifth floor of a building looking over Kannur. I walk in to this thing and was like omg Ive come to paradise. Shining cream tiled floors, kitchen (bigger than mine at home!) with microwave, four gas burners, and stocked fridge with orange juice, pepsi, and biscuits. Cabinets decorated with coffee fixin's and noodles…. theres a dining table, one big couch, and two cushy one person chairs, two bedrooms--each with their own bathroom, and AC! All windows in the flat provide for a panoramic view including the beach, a soccer field, the market, main road, and very crossable--normal traffic flow(for India)--streets. AND we have a washer!!! NO MORE HANDWASHING CLOTHES WOOOOOOOP! Ok so they instantly feed me some veggie curry and chapati (turn up the spice level from Kolkata by about 5 times) I wolf it down. Every meal I have had for the past couple days is just so full-flavored and spiced to perfection. I'm sipping my morning coffee now as I write this and I'm almost drooling thinking about the next time I get to eat ahhhhh! Haha they keep trying to feed me! Every hour its like…are you hungry? do you need something? I can order for you. Try this! I made it! …. I'm getting off track as usual and you're probably wondering about the people here and not just the food. Everyone is SO friendly and welcoming! I feel like a celebrity! Aaliya and Shilpa took me under their wing as far as showing me the ropes and around the area before Colleen arrived here Friday. Aaliya is an outgoing, bubbly, hilarious, 20-year-old (though she's wise beyond her years) who started speaking my language (and by this I don't mean English) when we arrived to the flat and she instantly busted out some chocolate creme cookies. Shilpa is a sweet, caring, and accommodating 28-year-old woman (though she looks so young!) from Hyderbad. We hung out and chatted all afternoon on Wednesday, and I feel like we are the best of friends now just a couple days later!
I went to visit the school on Wednesday (see next blog for school details). All of the teachers were so sweet and welcoming, all saying "oh you must help me with my English!" "we have been waiting and waiting for you!" "we are so excited to have you!" I was brought into each classroom where all the students would stand up and say "good morning ma'am." Wherever I was at any point I'd hear giggles and turn around to see a bunch of kids following me and whispering… only to scamper away giggling if I said anything. I told one of the teachers that none of the students would ever respond to me! only stare and smile! She said "well you are like a celebrity to them! They only see people that look like you on TV so you might as well be famous!"
Today the school has a program called "Grandparents Day," where all the children's grandparents come to be honored. Sir has asked Colleen and I to give small speeches, as we will also be welcomed to the school during the program. There will also be a Food Fair--all the parents make a dish to bring--and people will purchase tickets to eat items of food. All the proceeds will be donated to a local orphanage to teach the children the importance of giving. (Yes I have every intention of finding this orphanage. Anytime this word is uttered I perk up attentively.)
***Im writing this after grandparents day now. It was precious when each child brought their elders a single rose to honor them. Colleen and I were warmly welcomed and got to sit up front of the audience before we were called to make our speeches. I think my fondest memory of the day was when Colleen and I got to go to the judging room where they picked the best parent-made dish of the day (winner got a prize). We went crazy trying all sorts of typical Keralan/Muslim dishes. It was like a buffet with 30 dishes I've never tasted---rolls, chicken, fish cutlets, rice cake masala something, egg stuff, everything with some spicy kick….all home made!! bakshanam kayichu <---I ate food. (malayalam)
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